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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25860451">Snakes can yowl too</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/IosProject/pseuds/IosProject'>IosProject</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Animagus, F/F, Hogwarts Forbidden Forest, Post-War, Self-Mutilation, Snow, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Time Travel, Time Turner (Harry Potter), Winter, Witches, Wolf Pack</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:08:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>29,680</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25860451</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/IosProject/pseuds/IosProject</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>[This work is an experiment of translation of my own fanfiction from french, the original is finished.]<br/>The Explicit tag is for the violence, description of injuries... No sexual content here.</p><p>I needed to change the Season of the war. So; Hogwart's battle were in winter. </p><p>After the War, a weird meeting in a dangerous forest. A woman is running for her life, the other one is in agony. Wild créatures needs to tame each other to survive.</p><p>Please, keep in mind that it's my first attempt of fanfiction and romance. It doesn't justify the messy parts but you'de rather be aware.</p><p>The characters own to J.K Rowling.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger &amp; Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The tracks in the snow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey, I'm gratefull you're trying this work. Actually, I wrote it in french, and I'm trying to translate it, I did it once but I wish I could erase the mistakes I've made.</p><p>Also, my appologies; I'm pretty sure that few formulations I used in french won't match here. I'll try my best to figure out out and change the formulation.<br/>The chapters are biggers after the third one (1200, 2600 words), I wrote a bit more after that. It's been few months, I don't remember it exactly.</p><p>Well, enjoy?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cold. That was the only thing that she could think about right now. The cold that chewed her thoughts, consumed her lungs and froze her limbs in a pretty uncomfortable posture. Could she even move? Actually she didn't even feel the strength to sketch an attempt anyway. She remained there, motionless on the cold surface. She didn't even try to identify it's nature. Too cold. She did not have energy enough to open the eyelids and remained there, in the comforting darkness. She listened to the sounds. The silence, actually. Deaf and tired. A pasty silence that crushed her carcass.</p><p>She was'nt afraid. She knew she was going to die. The peacefull feeling that enveloped her reassured her. She had feared to feel her organs explode, her bones being breaked, her blood being expeled from her arteries by violent throws, or because of some other unimaginable ordeal. That was not the current situation. She was just going to go away. She was able to envision a death like that. That was so comforting.</p><p>She was so exhausted that she didn't even hear the slow bodies coming closer and then huddle around her carcass. Even so, if she could, she would had thought the sounds were the cause of her own imagination. What's the use of fear when you are powerless? It was better that way. And just like that, the Lionness let her mind whist and evaporate slowly.</p><p>----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Her nervous step sprang on the white ground, collapsed on the fresh snow that cried under her weight and kept her imprint in it bosom. She didn't know where to go, she was exhausted. It was over, she knew it, deep inside her tortured mind. She had nothing left to hold on to, but she had not yet agreed to let herself slide. She had to leak. But where? Her face was known to all. She had made sure of it. Nowhere to go. To the muggle world? She would die there. So what? Wait for the Death's bite? She had not yet resigned herself to it. Her desire to live was unshakeable and perhaps a little too stubborn, it pushed her forward. She was cold. But the witch had endured worse, so she continued her course by crushing the snowy surface under her sharp step. She hoped that one day a zoologist established a camp in these woods. Dead if that was possible. The woman didn't feel capable of  an other murder yet. She knew that this thick forest was renowned for its fauna and there was a time when it had attracted some witches and wizzards. She was basing her only hope of survival on these old rumors. It was a peaceful place if one knew its inhabitants and respected their space or territory. However, despite the richness of the flora, few risked here, the fear of being devoured was too strong. It would be a good start, she planned to spend the winter there. That would be great for a time, before finding a place more welcoming and conducive to human life, if this place still existed for her somewhere.</p><p>She was far too weak to even try to apperate, and if she did, she knew death would be waiting for her on this journey. She no longer had the energy to cast a simple charm. The witch sneered at her impotence. What an irony...</p><p>The witch was finding it increasingly difficult to make her way through the snow that seemed to thicken as she progressed. The lonelyness was overwhelming but she desperately tried to keep up. Take some rest meant hypothermia, death. As she began to seriously worry about the danger of cold to her starving and wounded body, she abruptly stopped running. All thought had momentarily ceased to function and her body to act. She froze. She felt her blood pulsating in her arteries and her heart beating in her eardrums. The silence and the shock were such that she could almost hear the snowflakes falling again on the soft floor.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Hunt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The shaggy-haired woman looked like a reptile focused on her prey. Silencious. Invisible. Ready to strike. Her retracted pupils could not get rid of the body lying there. She didn't move but she remained there for a few seconds, observing it. After a short time, the worn witch approached the carcass shrouded by a black cape. She examined the area quickly. Dozens of canine footprints were trapped in the snow all around the body. The pack had gathered near the body. She had studied wolves. If the pack had simply been passing through, there would be only a trace line, as if only one animal had moved. These creatures were careful. Curiosity led them to examine the victim. They were probably close to the corpse, and if they hadn't touched the meat, something had frightened them. The ancient Death Eater tought for a while. She could not strip the body on the spot. With rigor mortis, the cold, the threat that the pack had fled, she couldn't afford to take that kind of risk by exposing herself to all these dangers. It would take to long and she would be vulnerable. She could not bring herself to give up that opportunity yet . This corpse could be very useful. She had to decide. And decide quickly.</p><p>The witch resumed her random path, a corpse hoisted on her shoulders, without a direction. She wandered, alone in the hostile woods that she did not know. She comforted herself by the weight of what she was carrying; the load was strangely light. Or was it the adrenaline?</p><p>The moon was at its zenith, the night advanced, but clear. In a few hours the dawn would set albaze the sky. The witch hoped with all her soul to found a refuge before the first glimmers.</p><p>However, Bellatrix Black was reassured. If things went wrong, she wouldn't starve to death.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The snake's embrace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok, so, this is the last chapter that cointain less tant 1000 words and they are going to be bigger with time. Actually, that was my firts writting exercice since two and half years, guess I was'nt pretty confortable after all of this time... Enough for today.<br/>Thanks for reading and, my appologies for the mistakes...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>An orange glow warmed the heart of a small and devastated cottage. The wood was rotten, devoured by the worms but it was still standing and the witch had regained enough strength to charm the surroundings. Bellatrix had animated a fire in the fireplace covered by grey ashes. The woman had put her luggage on the dusty bunk before finally discovering the latter's face. She could not hold a hiccup of surprise and recoiled one step.</p><p>"The Mudblood." Blew her hoarse voice.</p><p>There was no hate in this sentence, a simple observation. She was far to exhausted for anger. Of all the collateral damage that the war had done and that could have ended up there, in the heart of the forest, it had to be her. Precisely this woman. The witch squeaked in a vexed pout.<br/>
It didn't matter after all. In her condition, the Gryffindor would not be a problem. She had undertaken to search her in order to recover all that she could; food, potions, wand, anything could suit. At that particular moment, she would have considered a root a real treasure. Anything would be, yes. Except for the sensation of a weak suffocating exhalation on the back of her hand.<br/>
The ex Mangemort froze. That was impossible. Her thoughts were rushing into her mind. How could she survived? She knew that the young witch was particularly determined and a real warrior, her obstinacy had bothered her more than once.<br/>
But this time, how could she hold on to life? And even worse; how could the witch did not noticed?</p><p>She was alive, yes. But also unconscious and beacause of her serious hypothermia, she would not remain in this state for long. That was enough. The dark witch just had to wait a bit. Bellatrix went to sit by the fire, she finally checked her injured shoulder; with the leak, the adrenaline, she had almost forgotten it. The analgesic postures she had held throughout had allowed her case not to get too much worse. She comforted herself and bandaged her open wound hoping to avoid an infection. Her thoughts went to the dying girl without her being able to escape.<br/>
She had to killed before. Sometimes, even worse.</p><p>It wasn't a real problem. It was a formality at most. She wasn't actually killing her. She was letting her die. That's it.</p><p>She placed her eyes on the small library, although it was brief, she lived in books that were interesting to say the least, she did not dare to consult them for the time being. The books were old, probably plagued by moisture, the black witch preferred to wait until she had rested and cast a spell of regeneration or basic restoration in order to prevent the pages from detaching from the binding. Bellatrix had not practiced this kind of magic for a long time. Prison and war are responsible for this. She wondered if the young witch knew a spell for this kind of situation.</p><p>The oldest woman slapped herself mentally. She would let her die. The girl was going to succumb quickly, and without pain.</p><p>So why was it so difficult not to think of the young witch who was dying, lying on the torn mattress? Never mind. She wasn't concerned by this. She didn't had to care. She tried to focus, as much as possible on the glowing fire. On the dance of the flames that licked the logs with red veins. The soft warmth finally replaced the cold. The cold.</p><p>Hermione. Because that was her name, right?<br/>
Hermione was cold. And she was going to disappear. That was not her problem. Not at all. Bellatrix did not turn her eyes away from the cavity that sheltered the fire.</p><p>Was she scared deep down? Was she in pain? The witch planted her nails in the skin of her skull and uttered a smothered howl that could only make her throat vibrate without actually escaping. Her weakened body was shaken by spasms.</p><p>The cold. Fear. Fear to die. She knew this. Fear of loneliness. Bellatrix wouldn't admit it. But, at the end of the day, she lost everything. So does the girl, isn't it? People have always things to lose in the war. This is why wars are for. Bellatrix had nothing more to lose. Exept life.<br/>
The wild-haired woman suddenly rose to examine the girl. The heat emitted by the glowing fireplace was not enough, of course. Her fragile little body quivered. She didn't even had the strength to tremble. She couldn't even fight anymore and had exhausted his strength.</p><p>Bellatrix did no longer took the time to consider her options. She had used this luxury too long. She could'nt even explain her action. Despair. Loneliness. Deep inside, she knew that she would'nt meet an other humain life. The Mudblood was clearly the last person she could interract with. Nobody can speak with a dead body. She stripped herself in haste and pressed her warm body against the Gryffindor after tearing the wet clothes that stuck to the unconscious girl's skin. The excessively cold contact with her body frightened the protector who wrapped her arms around the youngest while trying to extend her contac to the largest surface of accessible flesh. The ex-Deatheater didn't know how or why she got there. For now, she didn't care at all. For the first time since the battle and the death of her Lord, her tormented mind had grown weary. As she held the young woman tighter against her skin, a cynical smile slipped on her chapped lips.</p><p>She was grateful that the Slytherin, if they had inherited the malice and treachery of the snakes, they didn't shared their cold blood.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Red Ridding Hood has sharped teeth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Once again, I hope there's not to much mistakes... I've got time these days, I'll try to progress as much as I can.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bellatrix opened her eyelids with difficulty and began to stretch her sleepless limbs with care. Her arm struck the body she was holding against her chest. The surprise froze her for a short moment, it took her a few seconds to recall the events. The witch growled in a warm breath, grateful that the little witch was still too weak to react or even wake up. The dark haired woman released herself delicately, and with a feline step moved towards the home that she ravished from a dry log. The crackling fire and the energized flames rose again in the cavity. Satisfied, she briefly examined her host. Her body had regained its initial temperature and her breathing was deeper, more regular. Not daring to move her close to the fire, she simply covered her. 

She wasn't sure about the girl, or the reason why she saved her. They lost the war. She had non longer a reason to fight. But taking care of the Golden girl? That would be easier if she was already dead. Now, she had to deal with the Gryffindor. At least, she would have compagny. She couldn't appearate with her arm, she was stuck here, for a while. That was better like this. If she show her face, she would go go Azkaban. Actually, Granger was far more acceptable than a Dementor.

Bellatrix quickly fitted herself, adjusted her cape, tightened her grip around the knotty wand and left the makeshift dwelling. The black witch checked carefully the quality of the charms that protected the refuge. A repellent would prevent visitors from entering the perimeter of the dwelling protected by dense trees. The ex Death Eater had ensured that it could be alarmed if the Gryffindor crossed the latter. She was not her prisoner, but she knew that thé girl's condition was too precarious to brave the cold in the hostile and unknown forest. Bellatrix knew the forbidden forest, close to the school. Here, she didn't reconize anything. She couldn't travel far enough to find a familiar perimeter.</p><p>The wrapped silhouette moved silently over the snow that seemed to carry it. She was relieved to have discovered the clearing so early. She feared of never finding refuge. After several hours of walking during which she had transported the youngest, she resolved to put her remains in the stump of a hollow tree and continued alone, in the hope of returning to find her. Ideally to take refuge in a bump, otherwise, to get back on the road. She had believed in an illusion when she saw the roof between the trees, mistrustful she had approached it. Judging by its condition, the dwelling had been deserted for more than a decade, it had been left in haste, judging by the condition of some containers. No one would return this property, if the former owner were still from this world.</p><p>Bellatrix hastened to meet her organic burden before hoisting the remains on her back again and took her to the abandoned cabin. The witch, exhausted, had charmed the area with care, for this she had drawn on her last forces. She had recovered enough energy since the day before, it was finally possible for her to go and get food around. If not food, at least edible supplies. If the girl and herself were alive and partially functional, they would not remain so without nutritious inputs.</p><p>--------------</p><p>The young witch felt a comforting warmth enveloping her whole being. Awakened but still numb by her forced sleep, she began by trying to move her fingers lazily. Her body responded to simple demands. She exhaled a little strong. Hermione felt relieved. She hadn't tried to open her eyes yet. To tell the truth, she did not feel in danger, the weight of the blankets, the heat, the calm and silent environment reassured her. The young witch took the time to reappropriate her body and after a quick examination, she realized that her members were functional and welcomed it. With great care, the young woman adopted a sitting posture to limit the fall of tension. Her blood froze in her veins at when her eyes peered the room. It was impossible for her to identify the space she was in. She could not associate a sense of familiarity with anything in this place. Worried but curious, she slipped her bare legs on the edge of the bed and sat there, moved the blanket and realized with fear that she had kept only her underwear. She had no memory of undressing, let alone travelling here. She was taken there. Why was she naked? This thought caused a wave of anguish to burst into his throat. Who had carried it? Why? Questions were rushing through her head. She remembered nothing, in spite of all her efforts to try to reconstruct even a little memory, she failed miserably at every attempt. She then checked her skin for damage or abuse. Hermione sighed realizing that the organic surface was untouched by new wounds. Her breathing was nevertheless deeper, worried. The young witch tried to analyze the place in search of clues, of a corner where to hide to ward off any danger.</p><p>She had no time. She heard footsteps coming from the outside. The sound of a biped. It moved slowly on the hard surface, probably boards. A black shape appeared and slipped behind the window covered with fog. She was cornered. No place to run. To hide. She ran out of time and feared for her life. She couldn't locate her clothes or her wand. She desperately tried to regulate her jerky breathing, and struggled to consider her options, exhausted, amnesiac, naked and unarmed, she seemed lost in advance.</p><p>The door squeaked, Hermione no longer reflected, she threw herself on the floor which welcomed her weight in a deaf squeak. In her leap, she had the opportunity to make a fluid transition from her human form to her animagus. Camped on her legs, her tail erect and shoulders forward, she had gathered her body, making it more imposing. The bristled hairs on her back and the fangs uncovered, she vehemently scrutinized the shape in the entrance. A dull growl made his chest vibrate and the forehand of her febrile body. Ready to leap, her muscles were bandaged, she felt the tension shake her fine limbs.</p><p>The intruder stood straight in the door frame the hood covered half of her face and the shadow projected by it covered the second part. Two bony hands grasped the dress, which seemed excessively heavy. The wolf's grunt grew in her chest. The silhouette lowered the hood on her shoulders widened by the black garment. A smug smile blocked its lips that the cold had bleached, the intruder now scrutinized the wolf who hushed up. The surprise made her miss a heartbeat. With the retracted pupils, the hanging babines, she observed the face that she knew far too well. Instinctively, she positioned herself to protect her left anterior and unveil her white fangs.</p><p>Bellatrix sneered, a sneaky look had slipped on her cold face. The acerbic woman addressed her a few mocking words.</p><p>"Who would have thought, Granger, that you'd be scared of the Big Bad Wolf?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. We don't fear the rat in lion's arena</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm not sure about the way to write a dialog. I mean, in the form. Hope it won't disturb your Reading.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With her ears tackeled on the back of her neck, resting on her outstretched limbs, the wolf did not blink and only observed the slightest movement of the witch who was facing her. The Death Eater simply turned away and get back to her occupancy.</p><p>Hermione could not hide her astonishment. Her torturer had simply ignored her presence. It was this total disinterest in her person that pushed her to sit on her hips. She was deeply distrustful of this woman's disproportionate, unpredictable reactions. Hermione feared her more than anyone else.</p><p>A deep fear took root in the empty belly of the trembling wolf. Hermione had thought to evaporate into sleep had developed in a few minutes a deep terror. But she was no longer afraid to die, no. Right now, with this woman beside her, it would be the sweetest thing she would ever get. The young Gryffindor could not contain her growing fear, she remembered every word, every blow, every curse, every Unforgivable...</p><p>At that moment, she did not understand. She could'nt figure the reaction of her executioner, or the incongruous situation either. Why the woman who had taken so much pleasure in pulling the worst cries of pain out of her throat attack her, hurt her just didn't care about here right now? She knew that Bellatrix was incapable of temperance, she was not the type of person who could hunt her prey for days, observe it constantly before taking action. Her excessive hatred did not allow her this luxury. She rushed at her victims without being able to stop. Bellatrix Lestrange was not built for the long-term strategy. Why did she spare it? Her mind reflected and rational resurfaced after long minutes that all her being had spent shaking.</p><p>Her big head tilted, she watched the black witch with a wise and curious eye. Deep down, the girl knew that she was safe for now. She had not been bound, injured, or cursed. She knew that Bellatrix was an excellent duelist, actually, maybe the best she ever met. The Death Eater was in possession of her wand, despite the lethal power of her canine jaw and her sharp senses, the young witch knew that she could not approach her torturer, even if only by a few centimeters.</p><p>Lestrange was fast, trained. Her lord had made her for war. The Gryffindor had to recognized that she excelled there. Helpless, Hermione knew that it would be impossible for her to survive at an altercation if her opponent had wished it. So it didn't matter how much her tearing memories burned her, devoured her from the inside, the wolf knew that for now, she was safe. It was difficult for her to admit it, but yet it was a fact.</p><p>The young witch kept a widely reasonable distance so as not to feel cornered again, she never detached her eyes from the dark form that turned her back and did not pay her any attention. Such a proof of confidence in her abilities irritated the young woman. Bellatrix Lestrange felt such superiority that she did not for a moment fear for her physical integrity. This arrogance hurted her, not that she would have liked her enemy to interact with her, but her behaviour reminded her of her weakness. One had to face the obvious; Hermione was weak, her vulnerability was transparent the Gryffindor knew that she was not able to face a fight lost in advance. She swallowed her pride, then, slowly, with a light and silent step, the wolf jumped on the mattress without emitting a single sound. Hermione laid her heavy head on her crossed anteriors in front of her. Even if she was safe, the young woman did not wish to show it and refused to resume human form: she was far too exposed and weakened. The wolf did not allow herself to close her eyes to take a rest. She watched her eldest pull by handle the plants contained in the dark besace.</p><p>The ingredients were placed a little carelessly on the kitchen counter. Although summary, it still seemed functional. Hermione took the time to probe the room with a little more attention. The refuge was old, the dusty smell that stuck to her canine nose reminded her Hogwarts's library. Her whole canine body sighed at this thought. Someone had made her sweat, it was impossible for her to know who, a spell had hit her, she had collapsed while the cloud of Death Eaters began to take flight, she had felt seized and it was over. It was impossible for her to remember anything else.</p><p>The wolf rested her yellow eyes on the woman who was busy at the other side of the room. Her ears pointed forward, her head lifted up simultaneously and her whole body in alert suddenly rose up, without warning, instinctively, she threw herself in the direction of the witch with disordered hair. Her mouth was gaping and her fangs glowing, ready to sink deep into the white flesh.</p><p>The girl's hand firmly grabs the Death Eater's wrist. Her fluid transition would have made her favourite teacher proud, but her thoughts went elsewhere.</p><p>Hermione cried out, her pressure on the thin limb grew stronger, she pulled her towards herself instinctively.</p><p>"No!</p><p>She was surprised by the strength of her own voice. The dark-haired witch let go of her grip and the root rolled on the counter before falling back on the floor. Shocked by her reaction, the young woman stepped back and immediately released Bellatrix's arm, who was curiously looking at her.</p><p>The young woman resumed more quietly, still in shock:</p><p>-Don't touch it, the sap will enter your pores the moment it touches your skin and trust me, you don't want to feel that."</p><p>Once the stunned expression finally left the older witch's face, she lifted an eyebrow and stared at the girl with an amused look.</p><p>Hermione finally remembered her condition and wanted to disappear. Bellatrix, amused by the reaction of the youngest witch simply detached her mantle and stretched it to her lazily. In order not to increase the gene that grew in the amber gaze, the dark woman returned to her occupations without further ceremony.</p><p>Her skilful dagger sliced the roots with great dexterity. The silver metal passed through the plants by dividing them cleanly, without the slightest effort. The juice, the sap, flowed over the wood.</p><p>"Animagus, hmm? The woman's deep and strangely tempered voice put an end to the heavy silence."</p><p>She resumed distinctly without lifting her eyes from her work:</p><p>"So, tell me. How can such a rules-conscious witch forgot to declare herself?"</p><p>Hermione struggled for a few seconds to leave this question in abeyance. She cursed this so-called misplaced courage of the Gryffindor who prevented her from being silent in this kind of situation. The young witch gave herself a monumental mental slap before sliding on a cynical tone;</p><p>"Please don't pretend you care about this registry."</p><p>Her sentence was uttered more aggressively than she had anticipated. However, her interlocutor did not rise and simply shrugged her shoulders.</p><p>"It is a thriving source of information not to be neglected for an effective strategy."</p><p>The youngest looked into the wave, her eyes were trapped in nothingness while she articulated clearly.</p><p>"That's why I haven't done it yet."</p><p>Bellatrix gave her a curious look, but her interlocutor did not need it to pursue.</p><p>Those words had been delivered as a sentence, a threat that had already struck.</p><p>"I knew it was better to register myself after the war. Non one distrust a rat in a lion's pit. This is deplorable. It is the one who brings the plague."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. A pure loss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok, so, after this one, the fanfiction deserve the graphic violence warning.<br/>Enjoy..</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A strange silence had established itself in the room, only the crackling of the logs plunged in the red flames were audible. The chopped plants bathed in their translucent sap that still oozed fresh sections. The gelatinous mass was clumped all around and trapped the pieces in a particularly disgusting condition.</p><p>Hermione broke the calm of a distant voice.</p><p>"Where are my clothes?"</p><p>Her interlocutor pointed to their lazy location with her silver dagger. The lioness hastened and passed her paraphernalia with disconcerting efficiency. The Black witch had taken them back with a primary spell, a little crude, to mask the damage she had been forced to do the day before.</p><p>Her whole torn in places kept in remembrance the infernal fights that she had led with her own. Burnt halos had damaged the black fabric. She felt them with nostalgia. The young woman inspected the contents of her pockets, she was surprised to find her wand there. She now had the certainty that Bellatrix had not the slightest devious or evil intention towards her. She still wondered about it, but the painful memories that jumped at her throat did not allow her to linger there. Hermione realized that she had even kept some vials in the sides of her dress. Among them, a bit of Polyjuice a cauterization potion and a blood regeneration elixir. She had lost a few, but the contents of some of the vials could still be useful.</p><p>Her fingers felt the Time Returner lodged in the back of its pocket. She needed all the will of the world not to yield to temptation. Her fist clasped, she bit the inside of her cheek until she bled and ended up sticking her gaze into the dark eyes of the black witch.</p><p>"Why?" Did she inquire coldly</p><p>A perfidious expression veiled the face of Bellatrix who had hesitated to feign innocence, but opted for another equally entertaining game. She answered in a sneaky tone;</p><p>"Put away your anger, little puppy, your body needed warming."</p><p>The girl's blood froze in her veins, the catch on her wand was released under the revelation. She heard her heart pulsate in her eardrums. Her thoughts had stopped for a moment. The witch faded with fear. She felt faint, it seemed to her that her legs had become grains of sand that gradually crumbled. The young woman was unable to make a sound, her mouth was dry and her tongue pasty stuck to her palate. She just couldn't deal with it.</p><p>The ex- Dath Eater had fun with Hermione's exaggerated reaction on her naive face. The joke had gone on long enough, to tell the truth, she did not expect to produce such a shock. She felt the girl quivering from the kitchen. Her deliberately exasperated tone brought the little witch out of her torpor.</p><p>"Your specie, the Gryffindor, dont' think hard enough. Volunteers, perhaps, but your credulity reaches peaks. You lack temperance and deduction. No, little girl, I never had to stoop to this kind of practice to satisfy myself."</p><p>Hermione didn't even realize she wasn't breathing. She finally put an end to her apnea by inhaling a deep breath of oxygen, her breath was still trembling and the other woman resumed to complete to reassure her;</p><p>"You were in hypothermia, your blood was difficult to circulate and your body was unable to maintain an ideal temperature with your wet clothes. They kept your body from warming up, so you had to rub it in."</p><p>She did not answer, she had lost her ability to speak. Still shocked by the lure of Bellatrix, she simply withdrew, the mind clouded. She was stuck in a vegetative state without really being able to think.</p><p>The ex Death Eater watched the girl get lost in a world that was inaccessible to her and returned to her preparation. The witch still could not understand why she had come to rescue the girl. This unlikely scenario would not have even touched his thoughts two days earlier. She had to face the facts. The damage of the war led to unpredictable behaviour. She felt orphaned. The cause we modulated it for was dead, destroyed. Her lord was no longer, the last Horcrux, destroyed, and her fellow misfortunes scattered if not dead. There was nothing left. If she thought well, a weight had finally delivered her chest. There was this lack, unbearable, that pierced her whole being, yet she felt liberated. He would no longer call her. She owed him nothing. She had served him, protected him, defended him. It was her last battle. For Him, but also for her. She was finally relieved that all this was over. Even if the witch still refused to admit it, she was reassured that He was defeated, even if it meant flight, at least she escaped bondage.</p><p>She reserved a portion of the vegetable mixture for the girl and carried a sample to her mouth. The taste was infectious, unsurprisingly, Bellatrix chewed the plants slowly and ended up swallowing the food that still released a completely disgusting fluid at each bite. It was the first meal she had had for so long that she couldn't remember when the last one was.</p><p>The feeling of a full stomach gave her a feeling of peace, despite the infamous taste that still stuck to his tongue.</p><p>The dark witch laid a bowl close to the young witch.</p><p>"The flavor is quite repulsive, but it will give your body the energy it needs to regenerate."</p><p>The oledst woman knew that her interlocutor had heard from her even though she had received no reaction from her, the Lionness was in a second state and was not quite present. She knew, however, that her instructions had been intercepted. Bellatrix approached the fire to maintain it. She finally examined her injury to the orange light emitted by the hearth. A painful grimace blocked her face as she rolled the bandage of fortune. The wound was clean, against all expectations. But she struggled to close herself, in fact there was no noticeable improvement. A deaf grunt escaped between her lips. She knew a few healing spells, but nothing to cauterize and close a wound. Especially with her injured arm. She couldn't use a difficult spell. She knew the open wound needed urgent care. It was already an incredible chance that she did not become infected. The witch examined the poker near the fire. She pressed her teeth and stored it in the flames that licked the matte metal.</p><p>It soon blushed, the witch grabbed the cold part and observed for a long time the red bar whose tip had adopted a glowing yellow. Her dark eyes scrutinized the poker that promised a nightmare torment. Her teeth hovered in the tender skin of her lips. The blood was pearling in her mouth.</p><p>The witch hesitated. She could not put the burning object on the gaping wound.</p><p>Resigned, she placed the weapon in the fire and turned away from it. Indecisive, she let her footsteps wander in the refuge. Her attention landed on the root. Bellatrix grabbed her delicately, observed her for a moment before placing her on the central table. She still had some questions to ask the girl who was resting on the old mattress in which the fragile body was embedded. It embraced all forms of the Fearless Lion.</p><p>The witch tried to push back the deadline, yet she was aware of the severity of the wound. Glowing metal in the shimmering cavity. And pain lacerating his shoulder. She took a deep breath, grabbed her knotty wand and cast a spell of silence and firmly grabbed the poker before heading outside.</p><p>Bellatrix knelt on the ground, limiting as much as possible the height of her fall. She tore her sleeve to completely strip the raw flesh of her shoulder. She looked one last time at the burning metal, made sure that the spell would alleviate her howling and planted her teeth in the tender flesh of her cheek. Her lungs filled, the freezing afternoon air attacked her whole body and their drag seemed to plough her entire respiratory system.</p><p>She increased the pressure on the metal handle, pushed her teeth further into the bleeding flesh in her mouth and closed her eyes.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Ophidian's Roar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, this chapter cointains a description of an injury, flesh, blood and surgery.</p><p>The paragraphs are reported between theses signs -&gt; [ xxxxxxxx ]</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A deafening yell had crossed the tops of the dry trees and torn the slow flight of ravens over the white sky.</p><p>The red point pressed on the wound was still smoking, the moisture of the blood evaporated into a distressing noise. The wounded witch released the weapon, the tears of pain rolled on her hollow cheeks marrying the volumes of the pale surface. The sound that accompanied the fall of the metallic stick was suffocated by the snow whose cold made escape a cloud of opaque steam.</p><p>The bony hands were subject to uncontrollable tremors. The suffering woman was out of time. Her spell had attenuated the force of the deafening, acidic yell, yet it still resounded in all its being, it rocked against the organic walls shaken by nervous spasms.</p><p>Bellatrix was paralyzed. Her arms hung softly against her curved chest forward. Her flaccid muscles no longer responded. She couldn't even ask for them and stayed there kneeling in the snow.</p><p>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Hermione had come out of her torpor with violence. A terrifiyin Scream had awakened her apathetic spirit, now in alert. She took a few moments to analyze her surroundings. Everything was strangely calm and similar to the primary state of the room. The young woman assumed for a short time that she had imagined heartbreaking cry. She had heard them too much during the war. She shivered as she remembered the events still fresh in her memory. The young witch didn't even know how her friends were doing at that moment. She couldn't remember the last time she saw Harry or Ron. Everything was blurry. Her vision blurred. As she strolled across the room, she saw a figure kneeling from behind in the snow. The wild hair left no doubt as to its identity. The Lionness did not really know why her steps automatically led her to the dark door. At the end of the day, Hermione was tired. Tired of pain, suffering, fear and wounds. She had to grow up too fast. She had enough. The Gryffindor was exhausted. She let herself be carried on the porch, outside. The cold air attacked the fragile skin of her tender face. The young woman silently approached the Death Eater who was trembling on the ground. Her step was slow, measured but decided, subdued. She noticed the metal rod just near the febrile body. She felt it quivering under the black coat. Hermione was no longer in control of her actions, exhausted, she let herself fall on the ground, her body finally yielded under the heavy load. Her kneecaps were throwing waves of sharp pain into her legs, the ground had not been enough to cushion a fall from her height. She didn't care. She knew the wounds and tamed them.</p><p> </p><p>Without thinking, instinctively, she wrapped her arms around the trembling suffering woman's breast. The girl laid her forehead against her crooked back and gently cradled her older one who shivered, the cold bit her white flesh. The young witch had lost the notion of time, against all expectations, the other did not struggle, welcomed the contact. She simply knew that by the time the two witches had finally risen, the melted snow under their respective bodies had permeated their now cold and uncomfortable clothing. Hermione had silently dragged Bellatrix inside the refuge. The latter had finally regained a semblance of consciousness and her inanimate gaze no longer stared at an invisible point in the landscape.</p><p>The black orbs were now watching the Gryffindor, who was calmly settling after accompanying her on the berth. If the oldest woman was capable of consciousness, she had not recovered the ability to talk. Hermione approached slowly, in a tone mingled with weariness and gentleness, she addressed the wounded.</p><p>"The burn has disinfected the wound, but it won't be enough to heal it. I am unable to cure this with a spell, the surface is too large for my abilities. I will have to make sutures. I don't have an anesthetic, I could loosely ease the pain, but you'll feel everything. It'll take a while. I won't lie to you, it'll hurt... Hurt a lot, you're going to suffer. We have no choice. I'll give you something to bite. Close your eyes, try to be patient, I'll do my best, I'm gonna have to take your top off to get to the shoulder. If you don't, I won't touch it, but I can't treat you if I don't."</p><p>Bellatrix blinked slowly to confirm that she had understood the actions and accepted the terms. If she wanted to survive, she had no choices. If the flesh vegan to be infected, she would die. </p><p>Hermione tore a piece of her tunic and tendered it to the woman, who turned it into a compact ball before closing her jaw. Hermione undertook to quickly cut a piece of her garment, improvised a needle by transfiguring a jug and cast a simple spell to disinfect the material. She delicately grabbed the clothes that partially masked the wound and tore the black fabric from the shoulder to the ribs. The naked bust moved at the rate of strangely calm and regular breathing. The young witch quickly examined Bellatrix's chest; her ribs were apparent, there were multiple lesions, far to much for thé girl to count them. She could détail her collarbones dug. The heart of Hermione slowly tightened to this spectacle. She placed her hand delicately on the forehead of her patient who pearled with sweat and murmured in a breath;</p><p>"I'll go, you can close your eyes."</p><p>Bellatrix, resolute, closed her eyelids, increased the pressure of her jaw on the fabric that housed her canines. She waited. In pain, she became aware of every patch of skin.</p><p>[Hermione leaned towards the red wound and pierced the bruised epidermis. Her firm gesture did not tremble. She could not fail, she gave herself no choice. The needle of fortune pierced the flesh. The Gryffindor wish that she could be able to support the woman who quivered under her fingers. Hermione gave herself up to the thankless task. She was content to accompany her patient with thought. She did not try for a single second to force her mind. She knew the witch was too weak to be able to repel her and the young woman refused to enter by forcing Bellatrix by an undesirable presence. She simply continued her work in silence. The youngest woman was surprised to think that the witch had developed a particularly high resistance to pain, her face was tense but did not blink. Was it an habituation?</p><p>Her precise gesture did not detract from her activity and the needle tirelessly crossed the elastic flesh. After a long time, she felt she had finished. The awkward points dotted the area. The result was rather clean given the circumstances. A scar would appear on her bruised limb, that was obvious. The skin would never be completely regenerated, it would have needed elixirs pushed for it. The burn would create alveoli on the surface of the epidermis, but it be closed at least.]</p><p>Hermione touched the pale forearm that quivered in subtle contact with short nails. The pink pulp of the caressing fingers lingered on the bony hand. It began with a clear and slow voice.</p><p>"I'm done, you can come back. I'll have to examine you often in the next few days, I should change your bandage, the wound is purulent, it will ooze for a while, I'll have to clean it regularly. For now rest, your body needs it to recover, it has suffered a lot."</p><p>Just like that, Hermione turned away and stood close to the window. She contemplated the peaceful exterior. Far from conflicts. Far from terror. Out of time. If Bellatrix had told the truth, her debt was paid. A life for a life. However, strange as it may seem, the Gryffindor had finally gotten used to the presence. Perhaps more to the situation, however the witch was necessarily part of it. For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel constrained. Hermione felt free. It was ironic, she was fully aware of it, especially given the circumstances. She was trapped in the middle of an hostile forest because of the elements and her physical state too weak to undertake anything. With only a woman who had tortured her years ago, for only company. Despite everything, she felt peaceful, it was almost terrifying. The boys would no longer seek her knowledge, put her in danger, and abuse her status as the savior of desperate causes.</p><p>She owed no one anything. The omnipresent vise that had crushed her chest all her years had finally released her grip. She breathed deeply and a long sigh relieved all the pressure that had accumulated for several weeks.</p><p>As her gaze laid on the edge of the wood was lost in the distance, her stomach suddenly manifested itself. She did not remember the last time events had allowed her a meal and her body could use that. Her eyes slipped on the bowl that Bellatrix had prepared for her earlier.</p><p>The young woman contemplated the viscous texture. Without thinking too much about her capacity, she carried the plants to her dry lips, desperately tried to ignore the suspicious smell and swallowed the contents in haste. As she felt the food slipping into her esophagus and clumping into her hollow stomach, a new certainty struck her.</p><p>The pain was not the only unpleasant notion the Slytheryn had to get used to.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Rabbit Hole</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Same for the violence, I will use this; [xxxxx]<br/>It's about a hunting scene. Just at the begining of the second part.</p><p>Enjoy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione had fallen asleep at the second when her body had landed on the floor near the fire. The young woman had not even had time to concentrate on the crackles, she plunged into sleep.</p><p>With the fatigue, she felt that the night had passed in a heartbeat, and her still dizzy eyelids flickered a few moments before opening definitively. The red embers were covered with grey ashes and gasped the heart of the black log. She ravished her so as not to leave the witch convalescent in the cold and then looked visually for her roommate of misfortune. The berth had been deserted, Bellatrix was stationed in front of the window, examining her dressing which oozed a smelly and opaque fluid. She was wincing. The Gryffondor was not surprised by her behaviour although she told her that she would have to let her change the bandage. She knew that the Slytheryn were wild and not especially docile. Hermione walked slowly, taking care to make some noise to alert the other woman and not surprise her.</p><p>"Hello." The Gryffindor risked to greet the witch who did not blink. The Lionness sighed softly and came closer by trying again;</p><p>"I said I'd take care of the wound, it's hard for you to access it..."</p><p>The young woman approached her hand with the injured limb, touching the forearm with the white skin adorned by the black mark. Bellatrix withdrew with violence that the Gryffindor had not recognized her last days, the Death Eater scrutinized her with a hard and piercing gaze. She spit with disgust, a hint of hate had slipped between her damaged teeth.</p><p>"I forbid you to touch me with your dirty, impure hands! DON'T COME NEAR ME, YOU IDIOT!"</p><p>These words had been vomited with such violence that Hermione recoiled in shock. Her hand instinctively pressed the word inscribed in her flesh. The heartbreaking tone had cracked something, reopened wounds she had desperately tried to bury. Cornered, mute, her eyes wide and trembling, she flipped her face and cast on the ground in a grey wolf. Her ears hung on her thick neck, she stared at the woman with her yellow eyes. She jumped against the door, the shock broke the mechanism and she threw herself on the ground. Her frantic run took her to the heart of the forest, the creature disappeared in an instant and Bellatrix lost visual contact when the blurred shape rushed between the black trees.</p><p>The dark-haired witch creaked, a painful grimace crossed her face. She had regretted her words almost instantly. She had spit them out with more violence than expected and, to tell the truth, she did not really mean them. Bellatrix was not angry again the young witch. This rage was intended for her own person. Her vulnerability, her weakness. This anger had simply roared in her bowels, vibrated, then finally roared throughout her body to such an extent that she had not been able to contain her, her rage had overflowed, had flown in raging waves and swallowed up everything in its devastating passage.</p><p>Bellatrix hated herself. She couldn't stand her dependence on the girl. She couldn't accept revealing her weakness. Especially not to the Lioness. Not to her victim. Not to the one she made scream with pain. With fear. Not to the one whose voice she found herself in love with, torn and desperate as she watched her cursed body quiver on the cold slabs. Why did the girl treat her with kidness? She couldn't conceive of that. She simply remembered the soft sensation of soft fingers on her bruised skin. She did not think the young woman was capable of such kindness. How could she even do that? After the cruelty she had shown, how could she even stand a few metres away? There was no point in rehashing these questions. She had fled. Runs away from anger and pain. Runs away from rage and danger. She was alone again. The witch was surprised to realize that she had become accustomed to the simple presence of the young woman. She was safe. She no longer had to suffer or fear. It was relaxing. For a while she was not quite alone.</p><p>She fearfully turned her gaze to the purulent wound and grimaced. She had to admit that she could not take care of it alone. She cursed this vulnerability. And had appreciated the care that Hermione had given her. The witch had appreciate the sweetness that the Gryffindor had shown earlier. Even if she wouldn't admit it. In truth, she had never felt so safe. Basically, it terrified her. She couldn't afford to let her guard down. She had to maintain this state of tension, of permanent fear. That is what she owed her life to.</p><p>But now she owes her life to the girl. She knew that it would only be a matter of time before her arm became necrotic and eventually overreacted. Bellatrix bit her cheek and enjoyed the pearly blood against her tongue. To be indebted to this girl, moreover, aroused her contempt for herself. Tormented, exhausted and plagued by parasitic thoughts, she eventually turned away and collapsed on the bed. She was gone now. With her clothes, her wand. She must have been far away. The woman caught herself sighing at length. Both relieved and nostalgic, almost sad.</p><p>Yes, she was alone again. Maybe it wasn't so bad.</p><p>----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>[The inanimate rabbit hung softly in the powerful jaw. She felt the frail bones of the cervics breaking between her fangs plunged into the flesh. The sound of their sudden rupture had sounded like a delicious satisfaction to the grey ears. The warm blood was flowing generously from the wound to slip into the canine mouth. She was surprised to appreciate more than expected the lukewarm fluid that rolled on her tongue, lined her palate. Exalted by the taste, she stuck her teeth even deeper into the frail body. She loved the mad race behind the anxious leaps of the animal. The wild smell of sweaty hair as her prey began to realize it couldn't escape. The sensation of herlegs in suspension as her elastic body entered an exhilarating chase. The fuzzy trees that she only noticed with one eye without really paying attention, focused on the white mammal. The white foam pearled on her black lips at the promise of her fangs that would break the flesh and skeleton. Her erratic breath defied the unbreakable air, impregnated with fresh powder that the race had lifted violently.</p><p>And then her foaming mouth finally closed on the creature in a dry crack. Hermione had exorcised her feelings in the race, the chase, the exciting sensation. All of this had eventually obscured her vivid memories, her pain and regret. Her disappointment too. "Impure." And this word. Engraved in her flesh... She shook her heavy head. Erase the tought.</p><p>Her breathless breathing lifted flakes on the white floor. The organic fluid slipped on her hair, framed its jaw and fell on the snow in regular droplets. She enjoyed this deaf sound. Her pink tongue passed stealthily on her lips and fangs. She cleaned up what was left of blood on her silky fur.]</p><p>The wolf carried her trophy in the hollow of a dead tree with the others. She had been able to capture enough creatures to survive for a while. Her yellow eyes surrounded by black gazed at his inert prey gathered on the ground. A young rabbit, a Niffler with an amber coat and a Murtlap lay at her paws. She was surprised by the latter's presence in the middle of winter but was delighted. Flesh was nourishing, Grease and very usefull for potions. In truth, she deprecated killing. Especially innocent creatures. She simply had to survive and the roots would not ne enough. 
And the war told her that innocence doesn't exist after all. Hermione delicately grasped the corpses in her mouth and went in the woods without a sound. She walk in the silence of a forest numbed by winter.</p><p>------------</p><p>A chapped hand threw the corpses on the old wooden table, the inert bodies shook the root which rolled a few centimeters from its initial place. The noise startled the figure lying in the back of the room. Hermione threw, acerbic:</p><p>"- I would have liked to warn you of my presence but it seems that the door is damaged."</p><p>Bellatrix did not answer and her shocked face betrayed the surprise that had taken hold of her. She held her left arm to relieve her pain, then by reflex, shameful, removed the hand that supported her suffering limb.</p><p>The amber gaze moved on her naked shoulder and the young woman let out a sigh between her pink lips. Deep down, she felt sorry for that woman. It was obvious that she had great difficulty not building walls around her emotions and modulated each reaction to deceive, or perhaps just survive. She simply could not bring herself to leave Death Eater in her pain, a little reluctantly, she inquired, slowly:</p><p>"Will you let me take care of this?"</p><p>Bellatrix, still subject to surprise, did not reply, she merely nodded. The Gryffindor slowly came closer and set on the bed, the mattress sank under her weight and she began to change the dressing after cleaning the wound. The healing had begun, admittedly, and she was pleased to note that the latter was progressing faster than expected. At this rate, the bruised arm would be functional again in less than ten weeks.</p><p>No one dared to open his mouth during the treatment and when the last strip of fabric wrapped around the arm, the black witch finally articulated to the young woman;</p><p>"Thank you."</p><p>Hermione was unable to answer, and preferred not to, she knew that it had cost her more than she could imagine, and she did not wish to increase the discumfort that had to grow within her. She simply offered her a shy, though sincere smile and rose to clean her pus-stained hands. In a completely neutral voice, she addressed the wounded witch leaning in the corner of the room;</p><p>"Why did you save me that night? No matter how hard I look for an explanation, I cannot understand. I can't imagine that you did this out of excess goodness, I'm not that stupid. But you didn't use me or trap me or even torture me. I'm not a hostage. I don't have any exchange value. Your Lord is dead, he won't come back this time, so why did you risk your life in the cold with your shoulder to take charge of my body? You had no interest in that and..."</p><p>"Granger!" She was cut off by the raucous tone of her unfortunate companion. After a few seconds it inspired, resumed more calmly with a clear and detached voice;</p><p>"If we are going to live together I will demand you to ask questions only if you deeply agree to know the answer. You must be able to bear the weight of words."</p><p>There was a short silence before the black witch pursue.</p><p>" Because I will answer it."</p><p>Hermione had grasped an unknown sweetness in the tone and found even a slight supplication in it. The request had cracked something deep inside of it.</p><p>The Gryffindor tried as well as possible to mask this feeling in order to respond on the most neutral and cold tone she could used;</p><p>" I hope so. There are things I need to know."</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Water's Memory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hello<br/>Self mutilation here... And graphic description of flesh and blood. Same code; [xxx]</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione didn't know why she rturned here. She had recovered her property, her strength, although only partially, was able to hunt alone, travel... She no longer needed the Death Eater. Yet, she had turned around. She could have traveled the forest during days before returning to the sorcerer world. But she had to returned to the isolated house. She returned to the dark woman. To her torturer. She really did not understand why. It would have taken her days, but she could have found her friends. Her life. Whatever was left of it, nothing would ever be the same... But she walked in her footsteps, walked through the door again, not really knowing why. At that moment, she didn't know if she regretted it. Sitting in the dark corner of what was supposed to be an old potion room, she was distractingly caressing the ochre handle. The dagger was heavy, pleasant to take in hand. She played softly with it by rolling it in her palm. She liked the reassuring contact.</p><p>After the story about the rescue, the lioness deserted the common room. Bellatrix had not blinked when the young woman had escaped. She didn't deserve to be saved, of course. She was a Muggle born after all. A paltry Muddblood. The young woman did not understand why she had come to expect anything, but it was a done deal. Her raised sleeve revealed the scar encrusted in her arm. Her body had never forgotten the abuse that the Death Eater had inflicted on her. She was nothing. A toy, cannon meat, a library at most. Nothing else. A rebound. Bitterness was stuck in her skin. The weariness had strengthened around her chest. This story had been a confirmation to her condition after all, nothing else. Even though she was presumed dead, no consideration was given to her. There was nothing left to hope for in that world. She continued to roll the weapon between her fingers. The promise of this suffering did not seduce her, of course. She would be lying if she said she was not afraid. However, it was the best solution. If she realized it correctly, it might even be quick. She rested her eyes on the insult engraved in her arm.</p><p><strong>[</strong>Her hand trembled. In truth, it vibrated, her extremity shaken, plagued by uncontrollable spasms. Her nervosity was at its height as the blade pressed on the beaded pulpit by sweat. She felt hysterical tears pouring down on her pale face. Her distress was palpable, deep down, she desperately hoped that something unexpected would take her out of this situation from which she could not escape. The dish of the dagger caressed the forearm that quivered in contact. The amber gaze landed one last time on the letters trapped in the bruised epidermis. Her chest was oppressed by increasing anguish, it inspired by great puffs. The inspired air seemed completely useless; the youg witch suffocated. The oxygen that came in by shaking, burned her from the inside.</p><p>The knife passed over the inscription, caressing it with its slice one last time. She slipped from the wrist to the inside of the elbow before placing herself there. The blade leaned against the soft surface. All that was needed was a better pressure and a slight inclination. The skin married the shape and modulated itself. The young woman sitting on the floor bit the moist skin of her lips and tipped her head against the wall that supported her. She looked at the ceiling, her vision was blurred. The young woman knew that it was not necessary to cut the area too deeply. The mark on her surface was rather shallow. Her body was shaken by sobs. She quivered gently and exerted the necessary pressure on the sleeve. The blade plunged under the flesh, the witch struggled with all her might to remain silent but could not hold a shrill howl when she pulled the object outward while it sank deeper under the skin. She hoped that the weapon would slide but the epidermis resisted strongly to the dagger, Hermione applied a higher force and this time her desperate cry had shaken the dwelling.</p><p>The pain had numbed her thoughts, her relationship to the world, she felt only the hot fluid pouring down on the floor impregnating the boards. The lioness finally risked to examine her wound and her cloudy, misty gaze landed on the piece of loose flesh. The young woman realized with fear that she had not even performed one third of the task. She painfully replayed the instrument under the soft skin part and roared as loud as her voice could allow. Deep down, she thought it could cover her senses and numb the suffering.<strong>]</strong></p><p>However, despite the energy, rage, her hand did'nt moved at all. The wound did not stretch. She opened her eyes automatically and looked for a reason for her incapacity. She fixed the shape in front of her. Bellatrix had grabbed her virgin forearm with enough firmness to block any movement. The young witch had not felt this one despite the hard contact. She doesn't react, too stunned to do or think anything. Her tears dried up. The young woman forgot to breathe and stared at her face.</p><p>The Gryffindor failed to identify or even capture the emotions that had passed over her opponent's face. Was it her own confusion? Or was it Bellatrix's ? The lips between the open ones did not move, her dark eyes, animated by a disconcerting dread, stared at his own. She found in it an unknown stupor, but also anguish, a hint of sadness and deep, perhaps, regret.</p><p>Her face approached his, soaked by the nervous tears that began to dry gently before revealing a trail of salt in their footsteps. Bellatrix gently removed the dagger which was still under the control of the lioness.</p><p>Hermione felt the chapped lips moving against her right ear, but she could not grasp its meaning, exhausted, in the grip of suffering, she could not anchor herself in the present. She vaguely felt the firm body press against hers.</p><p>"Breathe." Ordered Bellatrix in a gentle, firm murmur. She had put her hand on the Gryffindor's frozen chest to invite her to inspire. The swollen lungs caused the sternum against which the palm was placed and the black witch embraced the inert girl whose muscles were finally released under the embrace. Something broke at that moment. Bellatrix had decomposed. She had never experienced guilt before. Her actions were her outlet. She had enjoyed the screams. Screams. Supplications. This time she was responsible. Guilty. Her hand landed on the girl's skull in the back and gently pressed it against her chest. Hermione did not resist and melted into the contact. The breach which had broken through the ramparts of Bellatrix suddenly widened, it tightened her grip with a delicacy which she did not know she was capable of. The latter focused all her attention on the warm breath that caressed her skin, the feverish body that she held in her arms still shivered, crossed by a persistent pain. At that very moment, she laid her eyes on the piece of flesh, soft and bloody that was still hanging, attached to the arm whose red fluid was still beating its way through. She had wished at that time to relieve the suffering, to live it despite her, in her place. To pay the consequences of acts that she could not repair. Fortunately, the dagger had not torn the tissue that would have prevented the witch from healing and regenerating the arm under the gaping wound. If she did her spell right, there might not even be a scar. Hermione would still feel all this, the suffering would not really be alleviated, only appearances would be saved, without further harm. Magic could not erase everything. The skin would remember.</p><p>Bellatrix cursed herself with her whole being. She cursed herself for torturing the girl. For marking her body for the rest of her life. She cursed herself for having uttered these insults, these filth, for making her feel so miserable that she preferred to mutilate her own arm to remove the monstrous inscription. She cursed herself for pushing the girl to such ends. She gently tightened her hand, which slipped on the spine of the trembling lionness, which did not react. Bellatrix touched the healthy arm of her free hand after throwing the dagger at the end of the dark room. The sound of shock echoed for a moment in his mind as her entire consciousness stared at the abandoned girl in her arms.</p><p>She gently berded the Gryffindor and murmured in a short breath against the hair with amber reflections;</p><p>"I'm sorry... so sorry..."</p><p>Her voice trembled, she didn't even try to master it.</p><p>"I won't ask for your forgivness, I don't deserve it. But I'm sorry."</p><p>Hermione did not really hear it, she clung to the sweet and reassuring tone more than the words of which she could not grasp the meaning. She felt her arm burn her. She recognized this feeling. This frank pain that she was able to locate accurately. She could map each plot. It was this infamous feeling that she had already experienced on the black paving. This feeling that her body had trapped in her physical memory. This feeling that she had just relived. She had recognized these impulses.</p><p>She wondered if the cold snow that had welcomed her body remembered her figure on her surface. How much she could have marked that cold ground.</p><p>The young woman did not know if the water had kept her long sleep somewhere, but the peace she felt and cherished there, she just found it.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Sun Shards</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello; I'm kinda unsatisfied of this part. Sorry, but it's been to many month since I wrote it now, and I really don't know how to change it. The way I write change a lot since it and write it integraly will be weird compared to the rest of story.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The two witches were kneeling by the fire, the Gryffindor slowly regained her spirits while her elder whispered almost inaudible incantations. She held her wand firmly above the mutilated forearm. It emitted a blue glow, the colored trail slipped under the skin which healed immediately.</p><p>""A wolf then?" It was a rhetorical question; the answer was obvious that Bellatrix had only asked for this to try to establish contact with the young woman. Not that the silence really bothered her, however she wanted to make sure that the girl had regained a certain degree of consciousness.</p><p>She replied mechanically, but without being asked;</p><p>"A grey wolf in truth."</p><p>Bellatrix knew that this sentence did not expect an answer, she left Hermione the possibility of wallowing in a comforting silence.</p><p>However, against all odds, the young Gryffindor pursued tenderly, a slight smile had crept into the corner of her pink lips. She seemed to recall a pleasant memory and, for fear of breaking that moment, the dark witch simply let her interlocutor continue at her own pace.</p><p>"I made this transition in the hope that I might be able to cope with my poor flying abilities... I was hoping for a bird. After my first metamorphosis, I panicked, feeling a second heart beat against mine time had been intoxicating but also frightening, I failed to control myself and I ran until my legs could no longer carry me. I had no idea where I was, I did not know this body. I was unable to detect myself by the smell. All my heightened senses had made me lose my head, I could hear the mulots scratching the soft bark of the trees, I could feel the moisture of the moss mixed with that of the crows that tore old carcasses whose rotted smell did not bother me. I could hear the footsteps of a deer that was too far away for me to observe, I could hear the fluttering wings of the fairies, I could tell if they were hovering or if they were moving. It was both too much for me and exciting, I realized I knew nothing. Everything I had learned did not apply, there were other rules. I could not bear this lot of information, I was lost. But I wasn't scared.</p><p>I remember sitting in the middle of the forest. I remember the peculiar smell of a summer night. I swung my head back and I screamed. It was instinctive. My whole body echoed, I loved it, it was intoxicating, sweet. I thought I heard an echo.</p><p>That was them.</p><p>I met the pack, they smelled me, heard me. I had done nothing to mask my presence, my hair was glued to the trunks and my smell had probably permeated the entire surrounding area. I should have been terrified; an entire pack was nearby and was clearly looking for me, I was on their territory, probably their hunting ground, and the chances of them shredding me were far too high. Yet I was appeased, completely confident with those creatures I didn't know. As crazy as it sounds, I knew they wouldn't hurt me.</p><p>They approached silently, we recognized each other. They taught me. I learned to listen. To feel. I felt my body, my muscles, I felt the warm air on my damp nose. They welcomed me into the pack, I lived with them, for them. I experienced some difficulties with this double life, but all this knowledge made me stronger as a human and I could not bring myself to abandon my family. I raised their cubs with them, we hunted with an complicity that I did not believe possible. Our coordinated race carried me further than I could ever have imagined, I could anticipate the slightest movement of each individual. Mine. They were my family, my pack. Being a wolf allowed me to be more human, a better witch. It was exhilarating."</p><p>Bellatrix had listened carefully to the young woman. So much so that she was surprised to examine more closely the space that surrounded them. The wailing of the logs cracking under the flames. The wind caressing the roof. The floor murmuring at the slightest movement. It had completed its fate, the organic tissues had resorted, a pink mark was barely perceptible at the place severed by the dagger. The insult, she, was intact. She had felt the insistent look of the girl on her dry hands.</p><p>"You don't mind?"</p><p>The tone was strangely tender, perhaps a little fearful.</p><p>"About what, Pup?"</p><p>The little witch pinched her lips by lowering her eyes to the warm home.</p><p>"Treating a Muggle born". She said that without animosity, just out of curiosity. She had not sought to hurt or mock the other who, well understood her.</p><p>Bellatrix painfully looked away from the indelible trace she had left there. She tried to answer in a light tone, as if to hide something she could not identify clearly. She bit her cheek in order to master her tone and replied, more slowly than expected.</p><p>"No, Hermione."</p><p>She was shivering. It was the first time the woman had said her first name. It was tinkling. She didn't even imagine it possible. Her heart missed a beat. She felt a strange warmth lodge in her stomach, the sensation climbed her body and exploded in her chest. Hermione tried as hard as she could to mask her emotions and responded in a short breath, as calmly as possible while the red coloured her cheeks.</p><p>"What about my blood?"</p><p>The Death Eater murmured, full of remorse.</p><p>"The last time I saw it, it wasn't that different from mine. At the end of the day, isn't it red?"</p><p>"I guess."</p><p>There was nothing more to say and the lioness content herself with this, replaying the sensation that had grown in her.</p><p>"Where did you learn, for the root? I have no memory of having learned the threat concerning this plant, in potions or botany during my studies."</p><p>Bellatrix had simply asked, the conversation was so banal between the two women that it was almost suspicious.</p><p>"Hogwarts didn't teach me that eather. My pack did. You know, I reviewed my goals in the first year. I was no longer studying for my future, my possible place in the world. I was studying for my survival. Our security. I learned at my expense that being friends with these two was a danger. I simply faced the consequences. This is why I wanted a bord as my animagus. For their protection, anticipation. All of this was to provide the necessary resources for our survival."</p><p>"It's a rather sad goal for your youth years..."</p><p>The Gryffindor answered with more enthusiasm;</p><p>"I haven't always been so suspicious. It's that thing I had to learn too."</p><p>Bellatrix was frankly stunned to realize how much the young woman had to sacrifice for her survival.</p><p>"Have you lived anything sweeter there? Is she quietly inquiring?" She realized at that moment that her hand was still on the girl's white forearm. She loved this contact and did not really want to break it, but she feared that it would eventually cause discomfort to the Gryffindor.She removed it mechanically to polish her wand so as not to arouse suspicion.</p><p>"Well, I enjoyed learning, maybe I wasn't doing it for the purpose intended by my teachers, but I was able to satisfy my need for knowledge, it was exciting. I must admit that if I had the opportunity, I would have focused my efforts on more peaceful magical dimensions. To the trolls, dragons and acromantula, I would have preferred the knowledge of the Hippogriffs, Abraxans and Thersals. I would probably have organized my time by focusing on transfiguration and healing spells. That was not the case. But I have the opportunity now."</p><p>Bellatrix could not retain a little frank laugh that slipped between her teeth and made her chest vibrate.</p><p>"Dear Merlin, you are Gryffindor. And a little innocent lion."</p><p>It wasn't difficult for the experienced witch to notice that the young woman definitely did not see where this conversation led her. She then supported it, understanding that subtext was not enough.</p><p>"Oh, Granger! The weasel!" Her exasperated and amused tone made Hermione blush who lowered her eyes. She replied quite modestly without succeeding in masking her astonishment.</p><p>"Oh. Ron and I are friends, nothing more."</p><p>The eyes of the dark witch rolled under her eyelids;</p><p>"Please, the redhead was string at you whenever the opportunity presented itself, please don't make me think you didn't notice! It was far to obvious and almost embarrassing."</p><p>Hermione, trapped, stammed:</p><p>"I may had confused my feelings for a while when I had only a friendly attachment, but that's it."</p><p>Bellatrix raised an eyebrow and looked at the young woman curiously.</p><p>"So you are even more innocent than you seem."</p><p>"I had to grow up fast, I didn't really have time to get interested in that kind of thing. Actually, I'd never...."</p><p>Hermione pinched her lower lip, embarrassed, she never finished her sentence, despite the insistent gaze that the other threw at her. Feeling cornered, she turned the conversation around and articulated a bit quickly;</p><p>"How were your years?"</p><p>" Not very happy, I joined him."</p><p>Bellatrix had dried it a little dry without really wanting it and preferred to add to soften the tone borrowed.</p><p>"It would appear that the school was not a place for both of us to flourish."</p><p>The Gryffindor found nothing to answer. They had each struggled for their lives, far too early, far too young, involved in situations that should never have caught them in that way.</p><p>The wild-haired woman swallowed painfully, and pointed to the arm, healed by her care.</p><p>"How is the pain?"</p><p>The youngest witch turned her gaze to her interlocutor's shoulder.</p><p>"I think you know. I forgot about the burn, you know? The heat."</p><p>Without thinking, she had moved closer to the dark witch and placed her head on her healthy shoulder. Bellatrix froze in contact and tenderly welcomed her. She gently stroked the curved back with gentle pressure as she drew regular circles from her fingertips.</p><p>Her hand caressed the freshly closed arm. A slightly blotchy pink line now adorned it with clumsy letters. She shared this with her companion in misfortune. These sun's shards, placed there, just under the skin.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Ouroboros</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, hello: somme tension in this one, and for the next too. Actually, I realise I could wrote Bellatrix much more... Agressive, forts atempt I suppose, the other story I wrote after this are less temperate.<br/>This is going to be a bit quieter After this.</p><p>Enjoy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The tender flesh of the rabbit browned over the flames, a satisfying smell vanished in the warm room. Meat strips dried nearby, Hermione knew that it would be necessary to go back and hunt fairly quickly. She almost completely recovered, and in order to withstand the cold, a certain amount of food was needed for the two women who had established their refuge in the middle of the forest. Winter would last at least until the total re-establishment of Bellatrix. The shoulder required daily care but the Gryffindor was delighted by its rapid healing. The dark witch no longer automatically used painkiller's postures and her painful pouts became scarce. The latter was deeply immersed in a reading about old spells that were familiar to zoologists. The lioness focused on the noises of the house, the fire that crackled, the old pages that threatened to break or tear at every moment, the flesh that shivered, the floor wailing at the slightest gesture and the wind that caressed the roof. She gave herself a moment of peace as her mind kept spinning and returning a question that haunted her for a long time. She stumbled, did not really want to interrupt this moment of shared calm, but it was difficult for her to simply hide her questioning. Hermione dabbeled the meat a little distracted, from the end of the metal rod. She laid eyes again on the elongated woman whose eyes moved back and forth slowly and evenly on the yellow pages. The young woman cursed herself with her whole being, gave herself a mental slap for her temerity as well as her inability to enjoy peacefully this restful and articulate moment;</p><p>"You said you would answer my questions. I promise to take responsibility for your answer. There are few things I need to know."</p><p>Bellatrix raised her head and gave up her reading. It did not take any more for the little witch to realize that she had mobilized all her attention. The still open book she was consulting a few seconds earlier rested on her slender legs. The attentive plums were curiously painting it. Hermione had moved closer and leaned on the edge of the table placed in the centre of the room. She inspired deeply;</p><p>"Why did you choose me?"</p><p>She had not had the need to specify. The rest was derisory; why did you pick on me, why not another prey, why a child whose parents have absolutely no useful information... The witch had known and the youngest woman had read it in her shady eyes. The interested, resigned, sighed, in reality, she had expected this request, she knew that this conversation would eventually take place. Her legs gathered and her body tilted to sit. The bony hand calmly pointed to the liberated place.</p><p>"I think you could use somme comfort for that" She had simply invited her, her tone was calm and gentle enough for the young woman to fill the distance between them.</p><p>The experienced witch tipped her head back and looked for a virtual point to catch her eye on. It began, in a vacuum, far away.</p><p>"He was obsessed with you, you know... Not because you had a particular value, but, you are smart. You were the most dangerous brain. If you didn't portected the boy who survived, his chances of sucess were better.  But he couldn't be on all fronts. Protect his Horcrux, watch the boy, and put you out of harm's way. All this in addition to regaining all his power and gathering his servants. You had to become someone else's obsession. Mine. Who better placed After all? A Muggle born. Smart, Gryffondor... He could not ask Lucius for this task, he was too close and crude to oppose your temperament. You were too thoughtful, unpredictable, that fool would never have been one step ahead. He needed someone unstable, as changeable as you, sharp, impassable, fickle and malleable."</p><p>Bellatrix stared at an invisible point fervently, to forget what she said, to forget the flood of words that brought back the terrifying memories, she pursued, mechanically.</p><p>"Someone who gave him boundless fidelity, a blinded spirit who hated mugle born. I imposed myself as the perfect choice. But no matter what you think, I was cold-hearted at the idea of this task. Mugle born or not, you were young. So he had to get tough. He was a master in the art of manipulation. Illusions. It began with voices that murmured, buzzed. Bitter, vile, cruel voices, an aggressive and cold tone. They haunted me, I could not put a face on them. They persisted, they drove me crazy. I learned that noises could hurt. That constant noise. Tirelessly. In my tired, worn-out mind. And I saw you. I heard you. It was yours."</p><p>Her breathing was erratic, her limbs began to quiver under increasing nervousness, the young witch now regretted her request but she could not stop her eldest who exhaled her memory with pain.</p><p>"I wanted to throw myself at you, to silence that voice that resounded in my skull without interruption. To tear your tender and yet so cruel throat. It was you, you who shouted at me these atrocities, whispered to me these absurd things that I ended up believing. After that, you calmed me. The voices were omnipresent, and sometimes you stood there. In front of me. The first few months, I was terrified and the rage ended up being born and growing, until I burned my body, shaking all my muscles, it wasn't enough, never, after the contempt, the insults, you started knocking, I couldn't touch you, I could not defend myself while your evil spells tore my flesh and crawled under my skin, I suffered your assaults without being able to put an end to it, without being able to stop the pain. Without being able to touch you. I wanted your body twisted under my hands, I wanted to tear your skin."</p><p>The hoarse voice became harder, stronger, it was marked by rage and pain, with contempt, it spat vehemently while Hermione no longer knew how to react.</p><p>"It was never enough, the voices, the words, the blows, the suffering. So you started screaming, screaming in my head as my body twisted under your evil spells.</p><p>-NEVER! I never did this to you !</p><p>It was too much for the Gryffindor who could no longer bear the scene that was being played in front of her. The pain of the woman next to her was reliving. Her own breath had blown away, and his eyes vaguely moistened, her complaint had resounded in the room, bringing calm to you silence. She had taken Bellatrix out of her torpor, out of her infernal memories. Her gaze, once more animated, finally moved and landed on the girl who quivered to her left.</p><p>"No... No it's true Pup... " Whispered her interlocutor who relaxed."</p><p>"I didn't wanted that... I didn't want you to go through that again... " Pleaded the girl</p><p>Bellatrix laid her glassy gaze upon the young woman.</p><p>"I think I should show you." She proposed this simply. The young witch acquiesced, without really conceiving hee, her breathing had deepened, the lioness had tried at best to conceal her apprehension but her elder had noticed her at the second and placed her hand on the sternum which began to panic.</p><p>"Take a breathe little girl. I'm nervous too."</p><p>The young witch felt miserable. To enjoy this contact filled her with shame and embarrassment. She hated feeling so vulnerable. Her body betrayed her. She wanted to blend in with that touch. It became difficult to deny her. She had not been close to any living creature for an eternity now. It was that. It had to be that. That's why she was so fretful. Hermione finally withdrew and lightened her voice by desperately trying to mask her discomfort.</p><p>- "If you are ready, I am too."</p><p>"Good. I guess you learned this spell as well?"</p><p>Hermione did not answer. All she did was nod her head and pinch her lip while looking away.</p><p>The witch whose black hair fell into wide and heavy loops on her bust had placed her thumb under the girl's chin to establish visual contact with her, Bellatrix encouraged her gently.</p><p>"Hermione..."</p><p>The young woman reacts to her first name as if it were a real shock that had through her body from both sides. She now looked at the woman who faced her with firmness.</p><p>The Gryffindor gave herself a short moment to observe her. She was undoubtedly beautiful, it was a fact. Not of these wise, sweet, naive beauties. She had this wild, elusive and unpredictable charm. Inconstant. Volatile. Marked by prison. It had been shaped by the cries, the pain too. Her skin still carried the stigmata of those terrifying years. Her story was written deep in her black eyes. Deepened. Intoxicating. They sucked her in and trapped her in the piercing pupil.</p><p>Hermione would have liked to protect her, to promise her all those things that no one had ever told her. Tell her that she respected her, that she would not hurt her. That she counted. That she trusted her. That she would never use it. And that she would stay.</p><p>But her lips did not move and silence filled the room. She watched the dark witch without succeeding in pronouncing anything. Hermione closed her eyes and raised her wand. Her heart quivered.</p><p>"Legilimens"</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Léthé has no mercy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At the moment when the incantation had crossed her lips, the young woman was caught up in the memory, aspirated by a strange force. Hermione let it happen.</p><p>She knew this space. Far too well actually. It was austere, cold, inhospitable. Black. The luxurious mansion of the Malfoys. She suppressed an unpleasant chill. Her eyes nervously swept away the vast room. They collided with a figure placed at its centre. Bellatrix stood there on the cold ground, prey to demons that no one else could perceive. The traveller between the worlds had recognized the voice at the very moment it had manifested itself. She could not locate where it came from. Its tone was acidic, devious. If the tone was unusual, the voice was far too familiar. She knew her only too well. Hers. Instinctively, she carried her hands to her throat, as if to check that the murmurs did not come from herself. She was mute, her skin did not vibrate. The young witch retained a hiccup of surprise when the voice became clearer, deeper too. She finally understood why she could not locate her clearly. She was omnipresent, coming from everywhere, nowhere at the same time.</p><p>"You know, I've been thinking about you a lot lately. Since I escaped you. I thought I heard you were a brilliant witch? You are pathetic. Unarmed and alone. You are uncapable. You have collected failures, tell me... Unable to keep your sister... How does it feel to know she's in the arms of a Mugle born? "</p><p>The illusion let a pernicious sneer slip between his lips. Bellatrix struggled not to react, Hermione saw the desperate efforts of the dark woman not to respond to insults.</p><p>"Even Andromeda has more bravery than you. Whatever I deplore her tastes. She stood up against forced wedding. You bowed your neck. Fool. "</p><p>The voice had uttered these words with immeasurable contempt. It did not stop.</p><p>"You are mad to bind. It is almost entertaining to watch you fail successively you know. How can you dare to stand at His side?" </p><p>The acerbic timbre had risen, becoming more threatening.</p><p>"You don't even deserve to put your dirty eyes on Him. "</p><p>" You are no better than me. Than a Mudblood."</p><p>To these words that still gnashed in the spirit of the Gryffindor, the illusion materialized. The blood of the traveller froze. She had her face. </p><p>"Let us see to what extent you can be inferior to h
Him. "
A cruel and predatory smile had bent its lips into an unhealthy expression. Piercing eyes crossed the Death Eater. Hermione now perceived slight tremors that made her muscles quiver under black and loose clothing. The spectator felt her jaw tighten, she watched the scene with disgust. She felt an irrepressible anger rise, injustice lifted a deaf grunt from her chest. </p><p>The illusion firmly grasped the black witch's arm and inflicted a superficial wound. A slight scratch had cut the white skin so as not to allow a thin red thread to flow. Now it was shaking with rage.</p><p>The imposture stooped and carried the limb to hee lips which displayed a mocking grimace before plunging his teeth into it. The witch failed to repress a muffled moan. The intruder had set her eyes on the dark look.</p><p>"You have the same taste as I do. Mudblood. You are an impure. You are worthless." She had suddenly sent her victim to the cold ground and looked at her with contempt before bursting with an unhealthy laugh. Deeply cold.</p><p>"You have no place near the Lord. You have nothing. You are nothing. It is pity that urges him not to reject you. Poor fool."</p><p>Bellatrix leaned her body on her forearms, her eyes filled with anger that she had no longer been able to contain, she screamed;</p><p>"YOU ARE NOT REAL! You are a sham. You are nothing compare to me! A you will disappear at the second I'll wake UP!"</p><p>A small laugh slipped between the white teeth of the ghost.</p><p>"Oh, I know. I'm just a creation of your twisted mind. You will eventually give in and forget that detail. And I will become real. You will not escape me. Your ramparts are yielding. And you already know it."</p><p>She knelt near the Death Eater and came close to it. She placed her curled lips close to her ear to whisper in a threatening tone.</p><p>"The question is: How long will it take you to doubt this? Before you are convinced of my reality? You have already lost."</p><p>She rose with grace and made a final promise to her.</p><p>"I hope to be able to contemplate your next punishment. I cannot fully enjoy the spectacle when I am at the origin, it bothers me. I hope you will disappoint Him again. That is what you always do after all. I would wait."</p><p>Hermione, helpless, exhausted, had collapsed. She would have, of all her being, loved to interfere. But she was only a stranger. An intruder. A spectator of a bygone moment who was only playing again in a place out of time. She threw herself on the woman crushed on the floor before trying to touch her without success. Her hands had crossed the blurred body that she could not hold. She had murmured words that she could not hear or even grasp. The witch was prostrate on the black slabs which reflected on their surface her exhausted carcass. She trembled. By rage, by frustration. By pain.</p><p>The Gryffindor knew that Tom Riddle was the worst  monster she coule ever imagine. This scene was not a surprise. She had never imagined the extent of her cruelty, which extended to her henchmen. To her most faithful soldier. No one could have resisted the wear and tear, the mental manipulation. Omnipresent. A persistent murmur that grew, growled, devoured, little by little. The relentlessness had overcome the consciousness. </p><p>A persistent murmur that grew, growled, devoured, step n'y step. The relentlessness had overcome the consciousness. The little witch herself began to be trapped by the mirage that appeared before her eyes.</p><p>Hermione was aspired in by another piece. Another room. Another memory. Again and again. The traveller was tirelessly crossing memory without being able to interact with the actors she could only observe by feeling rage growing in her body. She heard her voice but did not listen to it. She knew her too well. Insults, threats, contempt too. She would have wanted to throw herself at the fake torturer who wore her face. She wanted to take Bellatrix with her, to remove her from this infamous reality, away from the ghost that haunted her, buzzing in her exhausted mind. The traveller had felt a chill shake her spine when she thought she felt the gaze of the torturer plunge into hers. The lioness could not imagine the satisfaction that the Death Eater had felt by feeling her impotent body under her dagger when her skin had been marked. The flavor revenge could bring. </p><p>She almost forgave her.</p><p>The Gryffindor, exhausted, was sucked by a new memory. The young woman had enough. She was exhausted. Exhausted from having to contemplate, powerless, the woman whom she had finally tolerated and appreciated, to see her humiliated, memory after memory. Everything was too dark, too black, austere and distressing. Hermione was tired of this suffering.</p><p>"Did you get the girl?" </p><p>A Bellatrix bent, worn and miserable articulated, eyes lost in nothingness.</p><p>"My Lord, she ran away... I couldn't do anything..."</p><p>"Enough."</p><p>The Dark Lord did not deign to look at his faithful and continued in a flat tone.</p><p>"You know how to stop it. It's up to you to stop it. Take care of the Mudblood."</p><p>A sickening rictus slipped on his white and neutral face. His cold look passed over to the lonely woman whose reason had finally been annihilated.</p><p>He raised his wand and spoke casually.</p><p>"Crucio."</p><p>Hermione melt aground on the ground, her head in her hands, unable to support this vision. She could no longer hear anything. She was no longer capable of doing so. The time had frozen. The tension accumulated since the beginning of her journey had reached its climax. The girl had arrived at the point of no return. Anxiety electrified the helpless witch who had finally let herself down without the memory. Her legs had finally broken, her muscles were no longer wearing it.</p><p>"LET OUT! " Her trembling voice had torn the blurred scene. She had screamed to her lungs, so much so that she had exhaled all the air contained in her chest. The witch was sobbing now. Her body suddenly relaxed, it was more than she could bear. She had crossed the Death Eater again in her fall. Bellatrix had risen after a long time and left the room. Hermione was alone, isolated in this long memory. The young woman then realized how piercing silence could be.</p><p>"Let me out..." She had whispered this in an erratic breath. A slow, resigned supplication.</p><p>The memory slowly fragmented, gradually reduced before breaking into pieces and evaporated slowly. The residual shrapnel vanished silently.</p><p>The illusion was dead, the fragment of memory outdated. Hermione was there, in a confused present. The smell of boiling flesh and the sensation of a warm hand on her thigh had brought her back slowly. Bellatrix's thumb made small circles on the gathered leg. Virtual tears had drowned the amber eyes. The dark witch said nothing, she just watched the girl without any special expectations.</p><p>The traveller wanted to apologize, to ask forgiveness to the one who had suffered these infernal abuses, undergoes the presence that was not really hers. The words that pressed in her throat could not find a way out. A hand was placed delicately on the traveller's cheek. She clung to the limb to anchor herself desperately in that moment. She buries her face in the reassuring palm before placing her fingers on the nape of the neck covered by black hair. She fondled the loose curls that were loosely resting on her bare shoulders. </p><p>Hermione became imbued with the musky, reassuring, familiar smell. She completely abandoned herself in contact and melted into it. The tension that had accumulated in her body had vanished. The young woman had not even had the opportunity to experience discomfort. For the first time in a long time she had given herself a real moment of peace, without worrying about what would happen next. She was safe. Nothing mattered more than that now. She let her fingers run through the ebony hair, letting the highlights unfold under her touch. The young witch approached a little timidly, in search of warmth. Bellatrix let her palm slide from her cheek to her back and gently increased the pressure to invite Hermione into a comfortable embrace. She feels the girl's lips bending against her collarbones and lashes beating for a moment against her skin before stopping. The dark witch gently pulled the little lion with her and the two women dropped on the mattress which married their exhausted bodies.</p><p>The benevolence of Morpheus had welcomed them where his sister had made them shipwrecked.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. "Good Morning" said the Fox</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The days passed peacefully and the two witches had not really needed to speak. They were not in conflict, quite the contrary, but the silence allowed them to lower certain barriers. That was comforting. They had become accustomed to their presence, and a daily life had developed naturally. Hermione took care of the injured shoulder, whose appearance improved from day to day. When the supplies were running out, the young witch went out to hunt, Bellatrix had tried to offer her help to contribute to the reserves with the plants that she could go to fetch but by mutual agreement, after their last consumption, Hermione had been charged with this task. The witch with the black hair then readjusted the spells that concealed the dwelling. They had found a simple and comfortable rhythm.</p><p>Basically, Bellatrix knew that she would have to think about the seasons that would necessarily succeed. She would have to disappear from that world, unfortunately, she had still not decided on a suitable solution. She always managed to push the deadline. She thought that she would always have time to consider her future on the threshold of spring, to the total healing of her member. But in reality, this situation suited her for the time being and she did not want to change it. The young woman would have to return to her family, of course. Complete her seventh year. Build a healthy life, away from misfortune and suffering. It was obvious, and without any doubt, much better so, then, she would be alone. Once again.</p><p>She was peacefully caressing the brown slice of the book she had consulted earlier. She appreciated this dusty, slightly damp smell more than she would admit. However, she could not identify whether it was due to the smell as such or the nostalgia with which she was associated. Bellatrix distracted her eyes on the lying girl who was immersed in a reading that concerned polymorphic creatures. Her amber eyes glided calmly from left to right with a regular and light automaton. A strange innocence enveloped her body. The girl was too pure for that world. The black witch felt the wand attached to her thigh. This contact reassured her, she liked to feel the knotty wood under her fingers. She knew her by heart. She stood at the window and desperately tried to catch her gaze at the slightest thing that might hold her attention. Unsuccessful.</p><p>"You've been going around in circles for more than two hours, and if you keep this up, you're going to go through the floor, and I don't particularly want to find you underneath or rebuild the floor.</p><p>Hermione had pronounced this without detaching her gaze from the book opened on her legs gathered under her hips.</p><p><br/>
-Really, it's annoying, can't you forget your canine ears even for an hour or two? I feel watched. Growled the witch who did not even try to mask her irritation.</p><p>The girl laught with a little mockery.</p><p>-You make a racket to wake up a troll. It would be hard not to pay attention. The Gryffindor had closed the book on her thumb while waiting to know what direction this conversation would take in order to know whether the book would be definitively abandoned or not. She had given her attention to the woman who was pacing in the room.</p><p>Curiosity was burning her lips, she was dying to know the reason that impelled the witch to such agitation. She knew that it was not necessary to verbalize her request. It was enough to be patient. Bellatrix was bubbling. The Gryffindor began a virtual count while observing her roommate from the corner of her eye. She had learned to leave her space. It was when she felt cornered that Bellatrix became aggressive, all she had to do was wait a while. The young woman relaxed and opened her book, she was not yet at the half of her countdown while the dark woman creaked.</p><p>-Perfect. It hasn't been a month since we've been stuck here, winter is going to drag on forever, which leaves us at least two months of isolation in these woods away from everything.</p><p>Hermione completely closed her book this time if and straightened heeself on the mattress leaning against the partition.</p><p>-Oh, here de are; Is Lady Lestrange bored? the teasing tone slipped between the white teeth.</p><p>-Black. Corrected the interested person soberly without any animosity or reproach in the voice. Hermione had grasped and did not point out that she had completely integrated this information.</p><p>-I know it's not the frame that bothers you, or the distance from the warlock world. Her voice softens without ever taking a tone that could infantilize her elder.</p><p>-So, what exactly is the problem? gently asked the girl's voice.</p><p><em>My thoughts. The future. The promise of my loneliness. You.</em> She had repressed her thoughts and uttered an irritated grunt before articulating a little against her heart;</p><p>-I'm traped here because of your medical decisions that prevent me from doing anything at all that's not exciting.</p><p>This time, the Gryffindor sat at the edge of the bed and breathed trying to conceal her exasperation at best.</p><p>-You will not go far if your wound opens again. I understand your impatience, believe me. I just don't want your wound to regress... Even if it forces you to stay here.</p><p>The witch squeaked;</p><p>-At least let me do something useful.</p><p>-We've had this conversation before and it's still too early for you to go hunting with that arm. My stitches are still fragile and at the slightest chance of a spell they could tear. Trust me I don't want to have to do it again.</p><p>-I guess then, Granger, that you've come up with a brilliant idea to counter this impasse? The manner in which she had supported her last name was no doubt about the irritation of her elder.</p><p>Tension was beginning to develop between the two occupiers, and Hermione knew that it would only take one false step for the situation to slip and become unmanageable.</p><p>Bellatrix hated this instability, coupled with this impulsivity which could quickly slide into a more aggressive form. The witch was working to try to get rid of these defensive habits that supported by default when a situation offered no suitable outcome. In truth, she had no anger towards the girl. She was stumbling. This confinement, however different and in no way similar to the treatment she had received in prison, reminded her of Azkaban. The Black witch abhorred the constraints, the limited space in which she felt trapped. And despite her rationalization efforts she simply couldn't keep her cool in a cage, anyone could be the nature of it. She was experiencing real difficulties to contain her anxiety within these walls. She had tried to contain her tension until then, but she felt the nervousness growing even in her muscles.</p><p>- If you fear so much for me, at least let me come with you, I am recovering, not quite crippled, and if you are so afraid for my safety, I will follow you closely.</p><p>Her tone was a little more calm, Hermione felt relieved. Yet she was really chilly at the thought of exposing Bellatrix to such a potential danger in her condition. It was not ruled out to meet hostile creatures. Normally, the girl would not worry about the experienced witch. But she felt the risk was still too great.</p><p>She sighed calmly and approached the Slytherin with care so as not to rush her. She makes light contact by placing her hand on the healthy shoulder. Bellatrix quivered but I did not reject the hand she let slip through her arm before gently grasping her wrist.</p><p>-I know it's not something you're familiar with, but the fact is, I care about your condition. I know that you feel invincible and that this posture humiliates you. I also want you to come. But the truth is; I am worried.</p><p>She breathed long and hard to try to escape her frustration. She deeply despised this posture that hindered her actions. Yet deep down she did not belittle this attention paid by the lioness.</p><p>-How much longer? she inquired a little.</p><p>Hermione pinched her lips</p><p>-One week, and you'll can follow me, at least to spot the burrows.</p><p>The wild-haired witch blew, irritated;</p><p>-I am almost certain that my legs are not controlled by my shoulder. I think I can run.</p><p>The young woman's voice sparkled as a playful smile tuned to the bold look she gave him.</p><p>-Not that I doubt your abilities or your resolve, but I'm afraid you won't be able to follow me the second I leap, Bella.</p><p>Hermione masked her mouth the moment the nickname had crossed her lips. It had escaped without her realizing it and would have bitterly regretted it if her surprise had not obscured his emotions and invaded her body. She withdrew and released the wrist she had held so far.</p><p>Bellatrix raised an eyebrow to accompany her stupefied expression with a curious look. The girl tried to confuse herself as an apology, but she failed to balbutle anything. The red rose to her cheeks and she bit her lips behind the comfort of the visual barrier that her hands allowed her.</p><p>-Well, we have an agreement, I will follow you on the next hunt.</p><p>Hermione desperately tried to align her excuses</p><p>-Bellatrix, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry...</p><p>Her interlocutor did not leave her the luxury of completing her sentence.</p><p>-So, we have a deal Pupppy. And if my memory isn't completely useless, it seems to me that a hunt was planned for today."</p><p>Bellatrix Black turned away without addressing a glance to the confused girl who had not been in a position to refuse her conditions.</p><p>She hide from the young woman, the satisfied smile that had stretched on her lips. Deepbinside, her nickname had made a sweet melody that she had cherished. But she certainly would not shy away from occasionally getting what she had wanted for several days.</p><p>The dark witch had left there the embarrassed Gryffindor who had, after a while, tried to plunge back into the work she had abandoned a little earlier. But Bellatrix was quietly watching her from the window. In truth, in the last few days she had had every opportunity to observe the little witch and she could not concentrate on her reading. The disorderly movements of her gaze testified to hee vain attempts to try to integrate the handwritten content on the yellow sheet. She had kept her eyes on the front lines, and after long minutes, she still hadn't turned the page.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Habituation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey<br/>Hunt scene here; death, blood of an animal the scene will be beetween these [.........]<br/>Once again; my appologies, the more I translate, the more I realize that my version of Bellatrix was far too sweet and the story too cute for these characters, especially in the next and for some I already wrote. Sorry for this. Eventually, I will translate the last I wrote, it's much realistic.<br/>However; I hope you'll enjoy it anyway.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The characteristic cold of a winter afternoon enveloped the bleached world. The sky had to be clear even if the sunlight reached only diffuse, it struggled to cross the high peaks that tore the white sky. The wind could not make its way among these vegetable giants. It was a consolation, the low temperature was already biting their flesh effectively. Hermione thanked her thick fur which let the air slide on her silky hairs without it penetrating below. Her damp nose burned her though.</p><p>The tandem progressed in the hardened snow which kept their footprints until the next snowflakes. The soft step of the grey animal preceded the biped which was much too noisy for her opinion. The fearful animals were alerted to their presence at the second they were introduced into the woods.</p><p>The wolf gave her a black look full of subtext. A deaf grunt accompanied her exhalation. Her tail nervously swept the air that was moved by the lateral movement.</p><p>"What?"  Bellatrix who had grasped the reproach made to her by the animal in silence.</p><p>The yellow eyes rolled under her eyelids and Hermione resumed her human appearance in a heartbeat before suppressing the rather discreet woman.</p><p>"The preys can hear your footsteps for miles. If we are lucky enough to run into a Knarl, it would be because it is already dead or completely paralyzed."</p><p>The young witch blew and laid her eyes on a raven that clumsily leaped over the snow. Her blood only took a turn while she reported them on the exasperated woman. She asked him quickly.</p><p>"Do you trust me?"</p><p>"I'm sorry?"</p><p>"For the love of Mer... You ask too many questions." She took a deep breath</p><p>The dark witch replied somewhat taken aback by the hasty tone taken by the Gryffindor.</p><p>"Just say it." Throw Hermione in an urgent tone that did not leave room for reflection.</p><p>"I don't like you mysterious, Granger..." blew the suspicious woman.</p><p>The Gryffindor looked up.</p><p>"I need you to answer me, quickly and honestly. Do you trust me?" She insisted by suppressing an angry tone.</p><p>"Do I really have a choice?" The uncertain question obscured the slight anxiety in the voice that was intended to be continuous and reliable.</p><p>"Just answer, and answer quickly." Growled the Gryffindor who stared insistently at the black bird.</p><p>She articulated laboriously;</p><p>"You're really strange. Yes, I trust you."</p><p>"Good. Remember mostly, because you're not gonna like it." The precipitous and particularly sure voice had not even had time to amaze Bellatrix.</p><p>A second later, the woman had been turned into a raven which, completely stunned and confused, leaped from one leg to the other and pooped miserably. Hermione intimated it severely to remain silent. It was clear that she had not lost her hand in what was to transfigure people.</p><p>She knelt down and caught the bird in her warm hands. She placed her index under the black beak but the raven hid itself.</p><p>"Oh, come on, it's not that bad, your shoulder is safe in that body, and at least you can follow me." Whispered the young woman amused by the witch who tried to move her wings with clumsiness. She tried to stretch them and lean on them to take flight but only managed to stumble into the warm hands that supported her.</p><p>" For all I know, you are doing it wrong; don't see your wings as arms, they are not, it is the extension of your body, you have changed of carrying limbs, I imagine it is... A little confusing at first, but you'll get used to it."</p><p>She swung her black body from left to right before being able to lean on the joined hands and jump with an aerial pulse on the shoulder of the Gryffondor. She balances herself a little hastily on landing and croaks, dissatisfied in the ears of the witch who does not react.</p><p>"I will give you slow impulses to help you establish your balance. Once you find some stability, you can try to glide to the ground, and when your landings are successful, you can try to take impulses to avoid falling." In saying this, Hermione gently caressed the intense feathers with blue reflections. A deep, dark blue with light emerald reflections.</p><p>"Believe me, I understood; you don't like it. But I assure you, discovering a new body is really exhilarating, come on Bellatrix; you'll be able to fly!" The sensation must be quite different than with a broom. The flight of crows is not quite as silent as that of owls, but powerful and enduring, and then this black suits you to delight. Announced Hermione joyfully.</p><p>The raven approached her beak to pinch the ear of the witch who hid before it closed in the void in a thud.</p><p>"Nice try, Bellatrix. You're fast, but predictable. If you don't mind, I think we should get on with it now, I know it's still early, but I wish we'd caught something by nightfall."</p><p>The black animal croaked again. A furious luster passed through its onyx feathers.</p><p>"Well, we don't have a special choice. We are far too noticeable as humans and we have to eat, I don't particularly care for your rather unattractive mixtures and we need energy to overcome the cold. Unless you have a better idea, you're gonna have to settle for this."</p><p>The bird resigned itself. The sooner she would have finished with that, the sooner she would find her original body. In retrospect, we had to admit it; the girl was gifted in transfiguration. She agreed to follow her for it.</p><p>The raven agreed to comply with the exercises offered to her by the girl, and, against all odds, she soon achieved encouraging results, she liked to feel her body slip into the air before letting herself gently land on the snow by replenishing her wings against her ribs. It was amazing to feel its members so close to each other. The bird learned quickly and after two hours, finally managed to take off. Hermione congratulated her from the ground, she leaned a little more on the cold air and raised her carcass to the closest of the dry branches. She allowed herself to descend slowly on the currents before letting her sail beat delicately to restore her balance on the ground.</p><p>The young witch didn't said nothing and made a perfect transition next to the raven. She pushed the black back of her damp nose to invite her to take off. The wolf was trotting, followed closely by the black bird whose silent flight would have surprised any squirrel hidden in hollow trees.</p><p>After a long time in the quiet woods, the wolf eventually notices the presence of a deer's family. There was no point in tracking them down, and she alone would not be able to kill one of them and drive the others away. But the smell they had scattered in the area made it salivate. She wanted to focus on small mammals, but probably frightened by the vibrations of the hooves earlier, they took refuge. Hermione let out a frustrated grunt of her mouth between-open. Bellatrix, as for her, had taken a little distance and was now flying several meters from the ground. The wolf, too busy tracking the terrestrial creatures had not felt it move away and the black bird began to make aerial circles so the diameter widened with each turn carried out. The tip of its remixes grazed the high bark of the silent giants.</p><p>Her piercing eyes finally stopped at a point in the heart of the forest. Her flight finally slowed down and stabilized before heading for the witch she had abandoned earlier to follow the currents from the high peaks.</p><p>Shet dived silently on the wolf who had not heard her coming in her direction, her claws grazed the pointed ears and the canine, surprised, failed to close her jaw violently on the legs which had passed quickly before her snout in alert. She was going to scold Bellatrix for her carelessness in a raucous jappement but she shot her hair without giving her time.</p><p>Resigned, the wolf eventually followed the black flight, it was necessary to accelerate the pace to keep pace and her muscular legs did not spend much time on the ground any more, the mad race threw hard snow into fragments propelled by her hind limbs. Her warm breath punctuated the strides she applied herself to extend each time she took a new impulse. The frigid air burned her lungs and caressed her ribs as the crow slid through the light atmosphere by sliding smoothly between the trees. Its controlled trajectory turned behind the trees, the suppleness of the elastic body that drew the path on the ground did not have any difficulty in following the bird. Hermione stealthily wondered how her elder had been able to adapt to this body with such ease. She mastered her environment with disconcerting ease, so she did not for a moment believe that this flight was her first. Bellatrix eventually slowed down the pace. Hermione leaned on the movement and finally took the time to examine its surroundings. A familiar smell struck her nose, she enjoyed it and her pink tongue passed over her white muzzle. She had been so absorbed in the race that she had not for a single second focused her attention on the ambient air that she was now humming with appetite.</p><p><strong>[</strong>A stray deer was quietly nibbling on the bark of a tree at hand, its warm breath causing a light white cloud at each exhalation. The wolf lurks on the ground, imitated by Bellatrix who had ended up landing not far from the grey predator. Hermione quickly analyzed the surroundings before establishing a strategy in a few moments. The body bandaged, flattened on the ground, it moved silently by circling the trees. The absent wind could not reveal its position to the smell and its felt legs did not emit the slightest sound on contact with the cold ground which married its pads. She was dangerously close to the prey who was distracted by her ears, too focused on her meal to care about danger. When she was only a few strides away from the animal, the wolf threw herself on the creature which did not even have time to react while the fangs plunged into the mute throat. In an instant the bright gaze was veiled and the brown eye rolled in its cavity. The head hung on the side. Hermione intensified the pressure on the jaw which closed again in a dry blow to ensure death. The wolf finally released her grip and the soft body fell in a thud on the snow that smothered the groan. The blood was dripping from his hanging mouth. She licked him carelessly and lazily, inspecting her fur in order to clean the splashes that could have made blood on her gray dress.</p><p>The canine body straightened up and the witch took a biped posture before contemplating her work. The deer lay dormant on the cold ground. It was not big enough not to be transportable and Hermione knew that she could pull it without too much difficulty in her animagus.</p><p>A scarlet drop was still pearling at the corner of his mouth. She contemplated the organic necklace that had impregnated the dru and amber hairs implanted in the supple neckline. The raven made a silent landing on the shoulder of the witch who carelessly wiped the rest of the blood at the corner of the lips.<strong>]</strong></p><p>Bellatrix had to admit it; she had loved the sensation of the cold air sliding on her feathers as her powerful wings commandeered all the muscles of her limbs to look for an invisible support in suspension, away from the ground. The girl was right. It had nothing to do with flying on a broom. It was intoxicating, powerful. Exhilarating. She made some soft curls before finally landing on the arm offered by the witch who watched her, benevolent and delighted.</p><p>The small black head with sparkling eyes sought the contact of fine fingers. Hermione caressed the bird and her nails were lost under the unduly soft plumage. She distractingly massaged the wings and stretched them to relax the exhausted muscles by constant flight.</p><p>The lioness took out her wand, placed her companion on the ground and allowed her to regain her human form. A little confused at first, Bellatrix examined her legs whose support was completely different from her strong legs. It took her a second to regain her primary equilibrium.</p><p>The witch, in a playful mood, made a croak out of a deaf rattle. The Gryffindor froze on the spot. She had done the spell badly. The fear had veiled her whole face in amazement. Bellatrix left the young witch in her torpor for a moment, enjoying the more than honorable effect of her bad joke. A smirking smile accompanied by a cheeky look got the girl right. The dark witch thought for a moment to receive the lightning of the youngest, who, relieved, let her body surrender to a clear laugh. It tickled her body, slipped down her throat and between her relaxed lips. It chewed her soothed breath. She had finally allowed herself to lower her mistrust and finally allowed herself the possibility of evacuating the tension contained in her whole being. Hermione laughed. And that sound made her body purr, releasing her bruised muscles.</p><p>It was the first time that the dark witch had heard her laugh. This one was singing, ringing in her ears. Yes, it was certain: she loved that sound. She could definitely get used to hear it.</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. I'm asking for a Protector</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey<br/>Once again sorry, far too sweet, guess I needed that in my life when I wrote it. I'll try to finish it this week, it's like four chapters and then, the epilogue<br/>Anyway, hope you'll enjoy...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was'nt unusual for the young witch to abandon her wand, in fact, it was customary when she found the pack. She was trying at best to get rid of the human customs with which she was imbued. It was risky, and she was fully aware of it. Simply, to comply with this principle forced her to face the danger in her animagus. In this way, it was necessary for her to push her instincts and new strategies to evade or overcome what might be presented to her. It was also a security; she could not reveal her identity under a desperate reflex in the face of a wizzard. IOf the Gryffindor was'nt in possession of her wand, she would'nt even think of turning into a human. It kept her identity safe and her strategy preserved.</p><p>That morning, she gave herself a moment to try to track down and locate her pack. She knew they could be far away now, and she didn't know that part of the woods. Yet, she could not bring herself to abandon them. They had mourned her corpse, believed her dead. She wanted to find them, plunge her snout into their fur, share their warmth; play again with the little ones who liked to bury their damp truffles in the dense hair of her exposed breast. She missed them. Deeply. The deer they had slaughtered a few days earlier provided them with two weeks of food and the flesh that would not be consumed immediately dried up. There were no more special tasks to perform, and Hermione had authorized this excursion. After checking out her roommate one last time, she finally gave in. The injury was no longer so terrible and a gentle rehabilitation could only be beneficial. A little reluctantly, she had allowed her to practice outside to perform some spells simple enough so that their striking force and the return of the blow would not be too tiring for the weakened shoulder.</p><p>The young witch was still shivering at the idea, she knew Bellatrix quite careless about the instructions. At first, she tried to hide to observe the exercises at a reasonable distance, but the other woman soon found out and fired her. So, the wolf, reluctantly, eventually withdrew. Her light pace had moved her away from the clearing fairly quickly and she was now trotting to maintain a reasonable pace. It was quite efficient, the distance travelled was regular, not too fast to avoid exhaustion but enough to cover the widest possible perimeter.</p><p>Her hearing was fine enough to capture the sounds of spells when they hit the trees. She could not suppress a worried grunt, but did not stray from her path. Bellatrix was far from being stupid, and her limb was weaker than a few weeks earlier. She shook her heavy head and continued without blinking. She had already travelled a good distance and covered at least ten miles. Only she didn't feel any trace of her pack. Despite their discretion, they left on their way some tufts of hair between ochre and gray. No smell reached her nostrils. According to Bellatrix's instructions, she should have found the place where her body had been lying crying. The snow, the cold, the winter had taken them away. It was impossible for her to locate them. She turned around in a loop. It was already a long time that she passed, her muzzle stuck on the ground or on the trunks in search of a smell. And then, a putrid scent stuck to her black truffle.</p><p>On alert, she raised her ears in points and raised her head. She tried to catch the source. It was a smell that she could not associate, but she knew. She had already faced it. It was a nasty, dusty smell. Sour and raw. A smell that stuck to her muzzle and covered his palate. A smell that came from the clearing.</p><p>Here canine blood did not make a turn and her body rushed into the snow, headlong.</p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>The dark witch was exalted. Her smooth movements guided spells with unparalleled agility. She loved it. The flexible woman chained the spells and their lights crashed against the trees. Bellatrix was deeply satisfied after her trials; her dexterity had not been altered. In truth, it was an unprecedented relief. A slight tremor shook her arm and a throbbing pain ran through it. Bellatrix uttered a mute grunt. She did not really suffer from it: pain was a very familiar notion, but she was wise enough not to force on her member who demanded rest. The ancient Death Eater, out of breath, leaned her body against a trunk. She gazed at her supple wrist and massaged her distractedly. She liked to be able to enjoy again the powerful sensation that her wand could give her. Peaceful, she gazed at the tops of the trees from the cold ground. The sun was at its zenith, she had been training tirelessly for several hours already and was surprised to revel in the calm surrounding the place. The earth rested under the frozen layer. Creatures that had not found winter sleep were holed up in their shelters and nibbled on their reserves or the bark of the trees. Some managed to revel in the lower and tender branches. A furtive thought placed itself on the smooth face of the girl who had gone away earlier. She was surprised to enjoy this company for a while. Finally, she no longer questioned that. The reason for this incongruous attachment no longer concerned her. The witch finally enjoyed the pleasures of a freedom she had never had. Her family was her first cell. Then came marriage, servitude, prison. War. She finally enjoyed being the sole mistress of her actions and thoughts. Her borders were wide apart and the space that this situation offered her gave her a slight dizziness which she enjoyed.</p><p>The oldest of the Black sisters was inspecting her shoulder a little distracted. It is true that heeefforts had somewhat drawn on his possibilities, but nothing more. She nevertheless thought it wiser to postpone the exercise and went to put her wand back in her loose sleeve when she thought she saw something sneaking around the edge of the dense forest.</p><p>Bellatrix saw, from a corner of her eye, several black silhouettes floating in the woods. The woman, alert, stopped all activity and movement to concentrate on the ethereal forms. They slipped stealthily between the trees and their black clothes, torn, riddled with holes. Their skeletal, angular fingers caressed rough bark. Bellatrix felt the heartbeat stop before the heart started racing, her blood was pulsating forcefully in her arteries. She couldn't control her breathing. The shelter was not so far away, but in the open, and she knew that she could not travel the distance between her without being noticed by the creatures who rode.</p><p>Her muscles became thickened and her grip on the angular rod strengthened. She moved her body silently before sticking it against a tree. Its cotoneous limbs threatened to yield at every moment and its short breath punctuated its frantic exhalations. She tried to bury in her mind the infamous memories that were resurgent. The beings moved oddly into the silent zone. Their wanderings directed them to Bellatrix who tried to contain the anguish that grew in his limbs until he shook her bones.</p><p>The wolf had followed the smell and observed from its hiding place, a group of Dementors lurking around the dwelling. Her blood froze. The smell of greasy, rotting flesh covered the witch's. She had difficulty locating it and finally resolved to circumvent the perimeter, hoping that the dark woman was already inside.</p><p>Unfortunately, the sound of jerky breathing indicated the opposite.</p><p>Hermione was finally close to the witch cornered against a trunk whose thickness still masked her black silhouette. It seemed to her that Bellatrix was trying to blend into the rough bark, her erratic breathing would certainly make her spot, the energy emanating from her was too powerful. It radiated the area the witch occupied. The wolf stretched her body until she regained human form and placed her hand on the mouth of the panicked woman, who, completely ruled by fear, had not heard her approach. Hermione calmly pressed her palm and her deep gaze forced the dark woman to plunge into it. She could not escape this contact and allowed herself to be caught by the amber plums.</p><p>Hermione was trying to contain her gaze, to appease the terror, or at least contain it as much as possible. She acted by instinct and did the first thing she could think of to attract the mind, Bellatrix was simply not in a state of consciousness sufficient to listen to the instruction that the lioness wanted her to hear. So, the young woman, not thinking about another option, opted for her instinct. She closed her eyes and reduced the space. She placed her lips on her own fingers, which covered the alarmed face, just above the mouth between-open. Her free hand sought a hold and eventually found refuge on the discovered neck before lingering in the black loops. Bellatrix had under the warm body that was pressing against her. Her heart had missed a pulse and petrified, for a second, she forgot to breathe. Reality had suddenly caught up with her and she let herself be, her muscles had relaxed slightly under her white skin, sensitive to reassuring touch. This had lasted only a short time during which the Slytherin had abandoned everything else.</p><p>Hermione detached herself very slowly without breaking eye contact, she brought her lips closer to the ear that she had released by delicately separating my black wicks framing her. She now knew that she had received all the attention that the witch could offer her. She would not forget any of her words. The hand that still covered Bellatrix's face slipped gently as she articulated calmly;</p><p>"I need you to stay with me. Her tone was firm, but full of deep tenderness. Her fingers slipped gently on her bleached lips before abandoning them."</p><p>The whisper was quite audible to her interlocutor, but far too weak to reveal their positions to the Dementors who were lurking in the clearing.</p><p>"My wand is a few meters away in the house. I would only need a few seconds. I can walk the distance in a few strides, they're not looking for a wolf. Bellatrix."</p><p>She took a break.</p><p>"I need you to try the protection spell. I know you're not familiar with it. But I also know they taught it to you when you were in school. I know it scares you. It's been forever. That you doubt you can do it after your actions. I know all that. I need you to try. I'll be there Bella, I won't leave you. Buy me some time. I promise I won't leave you. Never again."</p><p>Bellatrix closed her eyes for a moment to integrate the information and measure its magnitude. She had not conjured this spell since what seemed to her an eternity. She could not bring herself to let these beings steal what she had left. She feared them. More than anything in the world. Nevertheless, she nodded silently. She had estimated the exposure time at a maximum of forty seconds at the second the wolf would have passed the detractors to grasp her wand. More than necessary for these monsters. She swept away this fatalistic idea. Her chest lifted under the excessively deep inspiration she had taken. The cold air slipped into her lungs without difficulty and awakened her senses. She firmly grasped her wand and crossed the space that separated her from the dementors who immediately noticed her. It was just what it took for Hermione to come down on the ground and rush to the cabin.</p><p>Bellatrix defied the creatures she no longer counted. The ethereal beings had not paid attention to the canine silhouette that had crossed their ranks. The promise of this human prey was more appealing and they hovered in its direction with terrifying calm. The black orbs were veiled. She thought of the tender heat of the fire. Of the reassuring sensation of the blankets on her slender body. The chapped lips of the woman moved for a moment, a barely audible murmur slipped in. Her wand remained mute at the request. She called to the memories of the girl who had embraced her in the snow. To her flexible flight in the body of the raven she had borrowed. Bellatrix shivered. She plucked her cheek and repeated the request. This time, she quivered and a blue glow escaped timidly. At this realization, the tone of Bellatrix became more assured, firmer. The sensation of this warm body holding her in the winter. The girl's eyes, deep, reassuring. Her laughter, the caress of her skin, her warm breath, deaf against her throat... She stared at the monsters who were facing her, her face hardened. Her voice, strong hoarse, finally uttered clearly;</p><p>"Expecto Patronum" A fierce pain penetrated the arm to the shoulder and the witch was able to repress an unpleasant rictus that slipped on her face.</p><p>An ethereal fury gushed out of the angular rod, its supple body floated in the air. The small spectral mammal moved in light circles around the witch. Her small sparkling eyes landed on it and strangely, the witch experienced a feeling of fullness, of security. The creature stood before the one who had summoned it and radiated the entire area of a blinding white aura that thickened, pulsed for a moment before widening and swallowing the black forms.</p><p>An otter with an immaculate silhouette had joined and the powerful glow that her body emitted tore apart the black bodies, the light projected by it prevented them from hiding, and the Bellatrix Patronus inflated its own halo. The dementors were trapped between this dazzling vice and rose to heaven to flee the shields that were tearing apart their inanimate carcasses.</p><p>The white creatures finally faint in space after floating joyfully with their respective witches. Silence finally took place on the clearing. In an instant, all traces of struggle had disappeared.</p><p>The two witches were facing each other, a few feet away. They toiled each other calmly, a mutual respect was read in their respective eyes. They were standing there, standing in the cold, and they couldn't express anything. They were content with that. Bellatrix held her injured arm. They had not dared to fill the space that distanced them and were gauging each other calmly in that early afternoon. A sick smile finally slipped on Hermione's face, one could detect a proud glow and a relief in her plums. The other woman did not answer it quite but eventually advanced towards the girl who had still not dared to sketch a gesture.</p><p>Bellatrix had simply not wanted to think about what allowed her to invoke her protector. It was still too early for that. She simply grazed the bare arm of the Gryffindor by plunging her black eyes into the amber plums that sparkled, an indefinable glow animated them. They remained there for a moment, examining each other with a shared curiosity without anyone daring say or do anything. Bellatrix plucked her lip without thinking about it while the youngest, embarrassed by the length of this eye contact finally turned away. The two mute women finally agreed and their tired bodies disappeared into the lost cabin.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. "Would the fall never come to end?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok sooo... I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't thought these weeks would be so weird.<br/>I'll update few chapters this evening.<br/>Enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once the danger had passed, Hermione's courage had completely collapsed. She finally realized what had happened a little earlier and she wanted to disappear. Underground, another country, the moon if it sang to her, anywhere seemed much more comfortable than here. The Gryffindor did not dare observe the behavior of the other witch, too shameful for that. The latter had not noted the event, at least not yet, too preoccupied by this meeting with the Dementors who had haunted these years in Azkaban. The older of Black's sisters hidden by her thick black hair, were immersed in her thoughts.</p><p>The lioness was replaying, again and again what had happened a few moments earlier. The black gaze, imprinted with a deep terror that had penetrated her at the moment when she had plunged into the onyx plums. Her stoic figure in the cold while her patronus had vanished. Their eyes crossed after the struggle while mute, they looked with respect, perhaps a little admiration too. The two women had stared at each other for a moment. The Gryffindor could recall every detail that had marked the visual confrontation. She remembered the wild hair raised regularly, by the deep, deaf breath, the discrete passages of the wind which was not so cold. She saw the white skin quivering against the blow and on which the sweat was pouring. Her lips were red, her clothes were half open, her clothes were battered by the very light squalls that made their dark drapes waltz. They offered each wave reflections that swayed between the raven and the emerald. Her arms were hanging around her body, the bony hand was holding the angular wand flexibly. She could have slipped out of the loose grip. Hermione even guessed the sound the object could have made by falling on the snow before sinking slightly into it. And the pure, wild, strange beauty of the breathless witch who stared at her peacefully.</p><p>By the time the little witch had crossed the black plums, she would have given dearly to know the thoughts that were hidden behind the enigmatic gaze. She would have wanted to decipher and tame the thoughts that rushed into the tormented mind. The young witch, finally realizing this eye contact, turned away with a vivacity that surprised her. She flouted some excuses she had not even been able to hear and simply withdrew. She began to chew a strip of dried meat and her teeth attacked the hard material with fervour. Her molars were trying to penetrate the firm surface. She was amazed at how difficult it was to tear a single piece of flesh. Not very thick. The young witch regretted a little the effectiveness of her fangs.</p><p>In the end, she simply pursued this activity which offered her a perfect excuse to justify her silence and let her mind wander elsewhere.</p><p>Bellatrix also made dance the recent events in her mind. In truth, she was unable to think of anything else and was trying to relive the indecipherable feelings that had enveloped her when the small mammal had leapt into space and slew her ethereal body upon nothingness. Her race floated and the invisible supports that he took in the frozen air rhythmed her cadenced race that surrounded his witch. He had painted it curiously, with great softness. It seemed to her to detect a promise in the round eyes characteristic of the animal.</p><p>She finally realized the invocation of her patronus which she had made a little earlier. A spell she hadn't conjured since she was in school. In truth, she had not feared to fail because of the difficulty and rigour demanded by this fate. It was powerful, it was undeniable, it had proven it, on various occasions. None of this, she had feared not having strong enough memories to do it. They had stolen everything from her. Leaving nothing but faded, cold ashes of the past. Her memory no longer offered her soft images. They had lost them. So she had called at these new moments without real conviction at first. What she had shared with the daughter had been strong enough to repel these creatures. All this troubled her deeply. She had real difficulties in considering that. The time spent with the Gryffindor had been rather comfortable, despite their differences, their apprehensions, their preconceived opinions and their common past. She had to admit that he enjoyed these moments, even though they were confused, troubled, full of fascination, suffering and mutual affection. Her tolerance for the girl had changed into a comfortable habit and then into an attachment. Something else too, but she couldn't determine that feeling. Bellatrix moved her black curls to uncover her shoulder before dropping her coat. It had been an eternity since she had applied the spell, to the point of forgetting its scope and its physical solicitation. Visually, the wound had not blinked. In truth, it was completely consistent with the appearance it had the same morning. The points had not been torn and some even started to fall, rejected by the skin which was regenerating. The pain was not specifically localized in the area that was healing; it was throwing electrified waves into its entire limb. Nothing dramatic or insurmountable. She couldn't determine whether the disease was muscular or nervous though. Bellatrix uttered a mute grunt. She pestiled inwardly. Her physical weakness for which Hermione had warned her was an exasperation. She seemed weak, helpless against the girl. It was probably the worst thing she had to face in a while. The witch felt humiliated and quietly thanked the little witch for not reporting the incident. Bellatrix would have gladly flogged herself for a long time if in addition to pain another situation had not bothered her.</p><p>The physical exertions that her body had been forced to endure for several hours had left the unpleasant sensation of sweat glued to her skin. She really depreciated that, so far she hadn't really had the time to worry about it. Calm had returned and with her full consciousness of her carcass. She could no longer simply hide the filth that had clumped on her epidermis and impregnated her clothes. She squeaked and agreed to leave the warm room to clean her body, which she dragged lazily to the small bathroom. The sorceress glanced at the girl who, massaged in a corner, worked hard with her whole being on a spot to occupy her mind. Bellatrix felt a mocking smile slip on her lips. Everything was so easy then... Lions were very bad liars.</p><p>Its supple, feline step married the ground with such delicacy that the dry boards suffocated the slightest noise. Once the door closed behind her, Bellatrix tried to remove her clothes that stuck to her skin, perspiration, moisture made the task a little more difficult. The witch moaned several times. Her arm was paralyzed by pain and she could not lift it. She was raving, puking mentally of insults intended for her. She abhorred the fragility, the inconstancy of her envelope which made her vulnerable. She trapped in her eyes the tears of rage that began to break. The witch did not hear the footsteps or the presence coming through the door, too busy hating this body which limited her so much.</p><p>Bellatrix cursed the Gryffondors, their bravery and their heightened empathy. Then her face was described, she suddenly softened. She would not be humiliated. Hermione would not play games with that. She would not benefit from that. A little suspicious, she let her approach. The young lioness had not opened her mouth. She had merely helped her companion in her tedious task and presented her with a towel to cover her body. Bellatrix entered the bathtub which the young woman had filled with warm water with a simple spell. The old Death Eater settled there and, while keeping her painful hand on the sheets that concealed her chest, she began to cleanse her white skin. Hermione was quietly savoring the back of the one sitting in the tub. She pushed the wide loops to reach the top of the spine. Her touch was innocent, tender. There she hid no ulterior motive. The girl tried to break the silence a little awkwardly.</p><p>"I never imagined a ferret could be your patronus..."</p><p>"Because it is not... The few times I have been able to call it during my years, it was an eagle who came."</p><p>She pursued, with her eyes lost in the wave as she squeezed the towel against her chest which concealed her flowing bust. Hot water engulfed the body to the hips and pearled the skin in translucent droplets on the smooth surface.</p><p>She knew that it was quite exceptional that a patronus changed, this only happened during a deep change. She didn't wanted to delve into it, she didn't have the strength. We had to push it back as much as possible.</p><p>"I was afraid of what they might take from me... I have something to lose now."</p><p>Hermione would have wanted to continue this conversation, Bellatrix had aroused her curiosity, the young witch had felt it suddenly close. She did not wish to disturb her or force the passage to her mind. The young lioness merely massaged her back naked, the soap bubbles scattered throughout the spine and burst as they slid along the slow curve before bursting without noise.</p><p>Hermione sighed and removed her hands. This left a void for the two women who did not explain it to themselves.</p><p>"I'll let you finish, tell me when you need my help with what you can't get."</p><p>Hermione rose very gently, her feline step moved towards the door while her momentum was blocked by a slight pull on her wrist. She turned to physical demand and a shocked expression passed on her face as the dark, restless eyes stared at the girl leaving the scene.</p><p>"Where are you going? The nervous witch inquired a little quickly."</p><p>The insecurity that dyed the hoarse voice took the Gryffindor by surprise.</p><p>"Bellatrix, I'm not leaving... I'm not far, I'm just gonna watch the fire... You're safe, you know."</p><p>"Stay."</p><p>Hermione dared not deny this to the witch who still held her arm firmly. Bellatrix Black is not a woman begging. Never. It is not a witch who claims. A person in need. Bellatrix Black is not vulnerable. And she had asked her to stay.</p><p>"Okay." She had quietly blown that and knelt again behind the tub.</p><p>Hermione had attended her elder all along. She gave her old loose but clean clothes, which she had found in a dusty closet. Bellatrix had put them on without protesting. She liked the feel of the light fabric on her naked body, he married her skin and slid on her every step. The slightly loose habit left the birth of her breasts uncovered and only partially concealed her slender legs.</p><p>Neither of them had resolved to break the reassuring contact. The warmth, the proximity of a body comforted them. Without having really agreed, they were simply slipped on the berth which had welcomed them and printed their shapes. Bellatrix had buried her face in the hair with copper reflections. She fondled with one hand the wavy bits that slipped loosely between her fingers. On the other hand, she let her fingernails run on her bare forearm that quivered at her delicate touch. She loved that smell there. The witch was far too exhausted to care about the discomfort she would normally experience. What ordinary was left for them anyway? Suffering and fighting to serve could not really be considered as such. The world had changed, it had not waited for them. Time, the world, is waiting for no one. She would plow with it. At that moment, that is what she allowed herself. She felt complete and surprised herself to like it. She wanted the girl closest without really justifying it. Bellatrix tightened her grip, abandoned the arm and dense hair to wrap the warm bust. Her deep, heavy breath caressed the neck of Hermione who let escape a groan of surprise, barely audible, which the other woman had enjoyed. She uttered a slight grunt in response which had escaped without even being able to repress it.</p><p>"Please, Bella, stop acting like this..."</p><p>"Like what Puppy?" The innocent tone of her voice was not even a decoy; the witch really did not understand the reaction of the refugee girl in her arms. She felt her regular breathing, the dull beats that her heart seemed to atone for every impulse. She felt it. The lioness was exposed, completely at her mercy.</p><p>The Gryffindor breathed with weariness, a slight sadness, barely perceptible in her voice</p><p>"Like this."</p><p>"Are you nostalgic for insults?"</p><p>Bellatrix immediately regretted her words, opened her mouth to apologize, but Hermione did not leave her this opportunity, too far away to retain the spicy words.</p><p>"You don't understand, Bella."</p><p>Her interlocutor could not identify the reason why the voice of the girl was so broken. Malady. Extinguished. It broke something in her own chest. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from answering with a voice that would betray her and persecuted docilely;</p><p>"f you keep this up, I could fall for you."</p><p>Bellatrix released her embrace, surprised but did not move. After a few seconds, she tightened her grip, lodged her face in the hollow of her tender neck and murmured in turn.</p><p>"I think I could handle this."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Mutual Constriction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Winter was coming to an end. The softening snow eventually melted on the earth that warmed the mass that had covered it in recent months. She had recovered her damp and clay smell. Hermione knew it was time for her to go back to the school. She would know how to trace it when the scent of the forest had returned. She wished to propose to Bellatrix to accompany her, of course, even if she knew that this request would be rejected.</p><p>The lioness kept turning around in the isolated house. She liked it there. She felt at home there. It had become her home, she was at home here. She knew that once she was out, everything would change, their balance would be upset, and in truth, it would knead her. Hermione was animated by the desire to find her friends, but she was nervous too, this desire burned her and grew, yet she did not want this cycle to end. She loved it. The idea of breaking that bond, making it null and void, terrified her completely. She did not believe for one moment to live this conflict that tore her heart into two parts, too distinct to agree.</p><p>She couldn't find a suitable solution then, she had simply decided to leave to observe the castle. Stop thinking. The young woman gently drew close to Bellatrix, who was clearing her shoulder to examine her wound, which was nearing completion. The witch had not flinched when the young witch had sat beside her. She took a deep breath and finally breathed;</p><p>"Will you come with me?"</p><p>Hermione did not feel the need to clarify. She knew that her interlocutor knew what was at stake.</p><p>"There's nothing for me anymore. You know that. I don't belong there."</p><p>The witch had not lifted her eyes from her old wound and had responded with weariness, perhaps a little coldly.</p><p>"I won't stay there. Not today. I just want to... Know."</p><p>Bellatrix finally confronted her.</p><p>"What do you want from me then?"</p><p>The young woman was a little destabilized by the harsh tone that the other woman had used.</p><p>"Your presence..." had blown the girl to half words.</p><p>"I can't give you this. They think I'm dead, it's better that way." The dark witch turned away again and inspected her habit distractingly. She located a nick and began to repair it.</p><p>"I can transfigure you, no one will recognize you, I won't be human either... Remember what I told you about rats..."</p><p>Bellatrix did not respond immediately and comforted herself in silence. After a few minutes, while Hermione had begun to move to leave the place, she slipped;</p><p>"Will you come back?"</p><p>Her eldest woman had become bored, overwhelmed. She had not looked up from her work and continued, lazily, the covers on her garment. The tone of this request contrasted with the questioning itself. It veiled uncertainty. The young witch chooses not to rise. She knew the older Blacks now. If the action had real double meaning, she would know soon enough. If she asked for details, she would probably receive her wrath or mockery. The lioness replied simply, without any ulterior motive.</p><p>"Yes, of course."</p><p>Bellatrix did not try to stretch the dialogue and remained deeply focused on her task.</p><p>The young Gryffindor shrugged her shoulders and sighed. The moment she finally crossed and closed the door on her soft step, she slipped into a grey wolf on the floor. The creature began its journey. Its pitch was sturdy, light, it did not sink into the wet soil and strolled through what remained of the white patches on the fresh ground. She did not hide it; the nervousness was at its height. Hermione was terrified. Truly terrified. The wolf shook her heavy head without slowing her trot. With the arrival of the first spring temperatures, she had the opportunity to locate the surroundings of a part of the forest that was familiar to her. Her last hunts had guided her into an area which she had had the opportunity to trample on during her years at Hogwarts. It did not take long to find the place in question. The forest was profoundly silent and she hoped that her spirit could finally emulate the plant model to give her some peace. She could not hear a breath between the trees and the strange calm that enveloped her increased the anxiety that devoured her forehand. It's been over two months now. She realized that despite her hunts, races and explorations, she had never seen anyone wandering in this part of the woods. It had covered a large area and would have been able to sense past attendance. None of that. The repulsive charm maintained by Bellatrix to conceal the dwelling did not protect such a perimeter. The wolf was immersed in her mind which swayed between the successive memories which introduced her friends, teachers, her meetings... So were the images of war. She replayed the infamous scenes as her body automatically moved into the tight woods.</p><p>She relived these black and ethereal forms, reconstituting themselves in opaque, human silhouettes, at least in appearance. These criminals who had come to the door. Their eyes darkened by a cruel desire. They betrayed their excitement. She had met those satisfied eyes, already victorious. She had trembled when she met those plums full of violence that she did not know. Her hairs stood on her neck and along her spine. Hermione continued on her mechanical path, trying to concentrate her mind on her supple muscles. She didn't know what she'd find out there. Harry and Ron, maybe. Basically, she couldn't identify whether or not she wanted to see them again. Her feelings were confused, tangled. What would she do there? What would she do if she saw them? Throw herself at their necks? What explanation could she have given them... That she had been an animagus all this time, had hidden it from them for their protection, that she had spent the last few weeks with the Death Eater who was her torturer, a woman who had saved her, whom she had cared for and attached herself to her presence? That she was afraid, that she was terrified of losing that?</p><p>Everything was cloudy in her tormented mind. Immersed in her mental torture, she had not even realized that she had finally arrived at the edge of the wood. Close to the castle. Hermione stood there, and contemplated the black structure, still standing despite the severe damage the school had suffered. A sad moan escaped between her fangs. The wolf had remained there, a few minutes contemplating the slow morning light caressing the dilapidated partitions that still held in the white light.</p><p>She let the warm breeze slip between her gray hairs. Hermione appreciated the moment and, with suppleness, leaned on her feet and leaped wisely towards Hogwarts. The heavy silence was probably the first thing that marked her. The places were deserted. The wolf wandered with exemplary discretion between the crushed stones on the soft ground. She had gone through the bare rooms, the torn dyes lying on the cold floor. What had once been gilding and pride were no more than disparate pieces dragging into the dust. She continued her walk carefully avoiding the Hagrid hut which had been reduced to cold ashes. Hermione directed her cadenced step towards the training field. Desert too. So she finally realized what she had buried so as not to think about it for weeks. She was dead. Died for those she had known. She had perhaps, in the end, imagined that she had been looked for. That Harry, Ron, would have organized beatings. The young witch was considered collateral damage. A victim like all others, sacrificed on the altar of glory and a memory that would not really tarnish. They would crumble just with time. We wouldn't have looked for her remains then. One would have imagined it somewhere among the cold ashes that the wind had scattered. Had it been wept? The downed wolf let her slow step carry her without worrying about the distance travelled or the direction. It didn't matter. She didn't even know what she had hoped for when she came back here. There was nothing left for her. More in this world that had simply rejected her. She didn't want her any more than he wanted Bellatrix. Her yellow eyes covered themselves with an opaque veil and disappeared for a moment under her grey eyelids.</p><p>Bellatrix. She wanted to find her face, her smell, her skin, her presence. To take refuge in the bubble that they had arranged. The wolf gazed at her reflection on the shore of the black lake. She slowly lifted up her heavy head and shifted her weight over her hindquarters to resume her journey in an energetic leap. Her canine body froze. On the hill, against the black flank of the castle, she recognized a more than familiar silhouette. Unshakable, wise, stoic and just. Her yellow eyes fell into those of her teacher. At that moment, Hermione understood. Mcgonagall knew. She knew, all this time. She had neither mourned nor forgotten, she had waited for her. The tandem remained there in a fragment out of time. No one wanted to establish a dialogue, a physical contact or get closer. It wasn't necessary. They recognized each other, understood each other. Accepted.</p><p>The whole body of Hermione finally sighed and shed itself from her anxieties, fears and disappointments. She gave her teacher all her history in this contact, all her gratitude, her respect, her love too. She did not fill the distance, closed her eyes for a moment and disappeared, her mad run led her into the forest that she had tamed so much that the trees she met were an extension of her being. Her muscles tended and relaxed successively in her course on the soft ground that welcomed her footprints in her womb, the earth stuck to her gray hair, she soaked herself with her musky smell, damp, with the fresh scent of moss, She enjoyed what the forest could offer her. She was dead to everyone. And the dead are silent. It is the living that must be taken care of. Bellatrix Black was alive, that's all that mattered so far.</p><p>She slowed down her frantic pace when she recognized the clearing and in the distance, hidden between the trees, the old roof. She could not express the exact reason, but a heavy atmosphere invaded space. Hermione was a little worried and approached stealthily. Her eyes sat successively on the various elements of her environment. The bark was shattered and the scattered fragments on the ground had left the clear wood visible. The rage of the spells arbitrarily cast into space was of immeasurable violence and without taking the time to think more about it, and threw itself inside the house. Hermione changed in an instant and held her wand firmly. She secretly swept the room in search of an intruder, she dared not call the name of the woman she was looking for, for fear of revealing her position to the enemy, yet the name burned her lips. She proceeded in stride and examined each room strangely peaceful. She took a deep breath and pushed the door that led directly to the room reserved for potion concoction, at least, had been. Deserted. She backtracked and returned to the common room, disoriented. The lioness could not understand what had happened. The house was intact. It was not a robbery, she ruled out the possibility of kidnapping; no one knew their position. Her thoughts were rushed, her hypotheses were born as quickly as they collapsed successively, her breath was short, saw, erratic. She was panicking. She didn't even hear the door handle tip over and the door activate. Bellatrix appeared in her frame, it is her smell that alerted the Gryffindor of her presence, she finally raised her head.</p><p>The witch experienced the fleece with astonishment. Hermione felt her legs break under her and leaned on the table so as not to collapse. It was the old Death Eater who spoke first.</p><p>"I thought you left."</p><p>She simply declared. There was no reproach in her voice, nor anger. Perhaps a little sadness.</p><p>Bellatrix dared not get close.</p><p>"You had been gone so long. I thought you had joined the chosen one and the weasel. I thought you had abandoned me."</p><p>"I promised this to you, Bella."</p><p>Hermione had uttered these words with despair that she did not know. She was unable to describe or quantify the relief that had taken hold of her carcass. Her eyes covered without her bothering to realize it. The desire to reduce the space between her consumed her, she tried miserably to restrain her, for fear of rushing her, of being rejected. Her body stopped responding, she was reeling now. Her lips were trembling, she was mute and desperately looking for something to hold on to so as not to collapse on the floor. She had nothing left.</p><p>Bellatrix crossed the room to permanently eliminate the space between them. Her arms supported the exhausted body which let itself fall to their firm touch. She drove her to the bed, her muscles were no longer able to carry her.</p><p>Hermione gently covered her bits of consciousness, the lioness became entangled in this present. Bellatrix was fine, she was safe, with her, in this place that they had tamed and invested. In their home. It was the only thing that mattered, the future would wait, no one would be impatient with their presence, no one would miss a soul in this world that had ousted them both. The young witch stood up against the body which held her firmly and gently touched the sides under the black coat. She had delicately placed her hand under the dark witch's chest and drew on the surface of the abstract and regular motifs that tore a raucous breath from the old Mangemort. She had shivered under the respectful caress, and when her hand was placed on her hip, she could not suppress a dull gasp.</p><p>Without rushing the woman who was quivering in her arms, the young woman laid her fingers on her bare throat and slid to the protruding clavicles. Her nails touched the smooth skin with delicacy, Bellatrix became violent so as not to moan, but her smothered breath revealed more than needed.</p><p>The broken voice of Hermione following the reaction of her companion, murmured almost for herself;</p><p>" How long have you not been touched for anything other than punishment..."</p><p>Bellatrix shivered but did not answer, she did not have the strength. She did not have the answer to that question. An eternity. Maybe for as long as I can remember.</p><p>She grabbed her lip and held on to the hug as if her life was only about that tender touch.</p><p>" I won't hurt you. I won't do anything to you that you don't want. I won't let anyone touch you like that anymore. Never again."</p><p>Her hands were lost on the skin streaked with thick, bleached scars. Bellatrix grasped the girl's wrist with softness and speed.</p><p>She laid her lips there before murmuring against the purple veins;</p><p>" I don't want you to leave me."</p><p>The Gryffindor did not answer, she melted under the gentle kiss whose warm imprint resonated on her feverish skin. She wanted to extend her touch to completely cover Bellatrix if necessary to make her feel safe. She wanted to prove to her by all means that she would stay with her. Her hands slipped under the slightly loose corset and her fingers began to map the smooth belly, the sensitive ribs and hips that quivered with each touch. She loved these unknown variations that she discovered in the hoarse voice.</p><p>She laid her lips upon the open throat, at the birth of the delicate jaw, she murmured;</p><p>"Then I will stay."</p><p>Just like that, the lioness had embraced the inconstant and insoumious reptile that she could never really grasp. She didn't care. As long as her murderous rings could accept her presence without risking to suffocate hier completely, this fragment of a world would be enough.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Nothing than can be fixed</h2></a>
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    <p>Bellatrix had allowed the days to slowly crumble to the rhythm of the buds which were beginning to appear on the young and cold branches. The green wood still bowed at the whim of the wind which cooled. The girl had whispered in silence when she returned, the conversations boiled down to vague banalities. They spoke, but did not really communicate, to the greatest disarray of the woman with black hair. The little lion had never told her what he had seen there. Bellatrix did not dare to brutalize her and force dialogue. Her own patience and understanding was a real surprise to herself. She had never had to wait for anything before, had always forced reactions, bent her victims to her demands. They submitted and offered her what she wanted under torture. For the first time in her life, she was patient. She would be there when the young woman wanted to confide, by then she would wait. At a distance or in her arms if she wanted to. Bellatrix respected that.</p><p>The land was more welcoming, more conducive to life. They had to start looking at a future elsewhere, even if it seemed ridiculous. Bellatrix wanted to live now, her roommate was in a comatose, lethargic state, but quite dead, obviously, but she wasn't really living either. She tried, sometimes, a discreet approach, to which the Gryffindor responded without enthusiasm, a sick smile frozen on her face and her misty eyes had lost their amber brilliance. She had tried to escape, to offer her space, to stay close, the witch was distraught in the face of the situation that eluded her. She had lost control of the girl, one more time, she hated this uncertainty, often coupled with an impotence that irritated her. She was driving her crazy. Her whole body was growling, screaming. Her frustration was getting harder and harder to contain in her chest. That girl was upsetting her. It was exhilarating, scary. She felt her control diminishing over the events that shook her troubled emotions. Bellatrix looked at the little witch from the library where she had read every book. The brown, glassy eyes were lost in nothingness, the energy that had animated them a few minutes after her return had disappeared in a heartbeat.</p><p>She had had the opportunity to turn around and turn the question that hovered around her patronus ever since. The witch could not understand the fact that he had changed. It was not an innocuous act, and it proved decidedly that a change had occurred, a profound, irreversible change, that had turned it upside down. Changed her codes. Of all the magical creatures and animals that existed in this world. Her patronus had to take the form of a creature of the same family as the otter. Deep down, she knew that there were no longer any real doubts allowed, she had heard about this phenomenon during the life of a sorcerer. Never observed however... She pestiled inwardly while her body was attracted by the brunette who rested on the mattress crushed by her harmonious mass.</p><p>Hermione was lost in her thoughts. In truth, she was caught up in it, devoured and the acid fangs, virtual, tore her consciousness with a ferocious appetite. She'd been going through things for days. She had considered options, forgotten, cried. She was grieving. She resigned. She had plunged her hand into the deep pocket of her black garment and touched this object that she knew by heart. The familiar jewel that had been entrusted to her. What could bend the time to its desire. Dangerous, impartial too. The notion of right and wrong eluded her. He was not undermined by a twisted conscience and was content to sway at the good will of her bearer. It offered the possibility of fragmenting time, perhaps space in a sense. It reduced the years without worrying about what might happen. She was chaos, embodied balance, unstable and eternal.</p><p>Hermione still did not understand the deep nature of this object; she did not care. She was tired of understanding. She simply wanted to enjoy her power and turn away from it at last. Put an end to that Damocles's sword that Harry had been, and that was her future here. She had made her decision and finally straightened her weary body on the bed. She laid her slow gaze on Bellatrix who was prey to her demons too. It seemed that fate had chosen cruelty for the two women in that world. She would put an end to it, and take the condemned woman with her. The prisoners were going to leave their cells without a sound, without anyone noticing their absence which no longer concerned them. Evaporated into space. Vanished. A sick smile slipped on her pink lips at the promise of this loophole that would allow them to escape. She knew that this time it would be over. That they would no longer suffer. We would have to deal with regret, guilt as well. The memories and the memory that burst between the mixed realities. They would be saved, together. That was enough for her.</p><p>The black witch let her nails scratch the surface of the aged table. The brittle wood was so fragile that it broke, didn't even splinter, and decomposed into dust under its nervous fingers. Bellatrix was afraid of what she wanted. She wanted to possess her, break her. Destroy her innocence and watch her rot and wither. She wanted the girl to belong to her, almost as much as she wanted to keep her from her harmful behavior and wanted to mark her. Again. And protect her, never hurt her again. Hold her tender body and map it completely. She despised her contradictory desires which hammered her confused emotions. The dark woman wished to find the girl. Get her out of that pernicious state that atrophied her muscles and had lulled her carcass. Fogged her wit yet again sharp and cunning. The witch wanted to break down the barriers. She respected the confined space, struggled against her growing desire to bring down the psychic walls.</p><p>For some obscure reason, Hermione had perceived her confusion and her mental conflict, she reduced space. Her hands landed on the shoulders of the woman who did not react to contact.</p><p>" Why do you struggle? The girl's voice had fainted in the reassuring calm that enveloped the miserable cottage."</p><p>Cursed be these Gryffondors, cursed be their misguided empathy. And that girl who had to waltz all her ideas out of the blue.</p><p>"Back among the living puppies?" The welcomed Bellatrix by purring warmly to conceal her conflicting state.</p><p>"You're bad at changing the subject, you know?"</p><p>"I have many other skills. That's good enough for me."</p><p>Hermione blew and bypassed the woman to face her. She stooped to her height before kneeling to find a more comfortable position. She did not feel intimidated by the inferior position she held visually. She had been over this for a long time now. She didn't really care anymore. The lioness had proven her strength many times and she knew that the witch she was now confronting had deep respect for her.</p><p>"Bella, we need to talk..."</p><p>The girl's tone was weary, tinged with worry. Bellatrix no longer played and offered her all her attention.</p><p>"You understood it, long before me. We are nothing. We have nothing, this universe no longer wants us. All I had were my friends, they abandoned me, I'm just a pile of ashes for them. Even so, if I came back, life resumed its course. I should justify myself, explain this winter, explain your presence, explain... Us. I don't think I have the strength anymore. For my parents, I never existed. I stole their memories of me. Andromeda will never forgive you. You risk your life by appearing in the wizzard's world, you will be on perpetual flight or taken back to Azkaban, Narcissa will not be able to protect you, and you know it. We are hopeless, there is no future here."</p><p>The young witch had merely exposed the facts. She no longer had the energy to be sad, only resolved.</p><p>Bellatrix nodded to nod before speaking again.</p><p>"You wouldn't express yourself like that, Granger, if you didn't have an idea, then, please; share it with me."</p><p>Hermione drew her jewel from the deep pocket, hidden in the sides of her heavy garment. She tinkled and let herself be extirpated and, carried at arm's length, oscillated gently.</p><p>"Smart girl..." whispered the witch in an amused breath.</p><p>Hermione was silent, and the black witch pursued;</p><p>"When?"</p><p>"Far enough that no one can recognize us, far enough that we cannot interfere with the chronology. That's too much for us not to be completely out of phase at the time. I should give it back to its owner, we'll have to look for her family. Her tone was single, controlled, cold, maybe distant."</p><p>"Why didn't you leave before? The black witch did not allow herself to be moved and followed her request."</p><p>"I believed in our world, I wanted to try. There is nothing left."</p><p>"Why did you wait for me when you could escape?"</p><p>"I want to let myself down. No matter how much my bones might break and my heart burst at the end of my fall when I'll crash."</p><p>Bellatrix let the silence settle for a moment.</p><p>"Do you trust me?" She suddenly inquires.</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"I don't know. It's like that." Hermione responded regularly, set up as an automaton designed to tell the truth.</p><p>"I could kill you."</p><p>"I'm aware of that. You've tried it after all."</p><p>"I could break you, just like that. In one breath. And you would no longer be. Or I could take my time and destroy you until you are left with a vast weariness, when you no longer have the strength to be afraid or hurt. The tone was not threatening, it was detached."</p><p>"I know." The girl was impassive, the Death Eater knew that her interlocutor had weighed her words. She had learned the lift.</p><p>Without them really realizing it, Hermione had sat on the black witch's legs and plunged into her eyes.</p><p>"You don't know me little girl. I don't know myself anymore. I'm afraid, what I might do to you, want to do to you. I am inconstant, I loved the pain. The cries, the supplications. The smell and the warmth of the blood that I was able to shed. Do you understand that?"</p><p>This time, Hermione hesitated for a moment.</p><p>"No... I don't know what you went through. I don't know exactly how satisfied you were. But I'm not afraid, if I have to, I'll be confident for two."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"I don't have a satisfaying answer... I trust you because I like it. Maybe I like playing with fire. Maybe that's why I protected the boys. I like to know that I could follow you without questioning myself. Knowing that I can abandon myself and not think about anything else, without reason, without justification."
 She had articulated this promise tenderly. Bellatrix's heart had tightened under her bodice.</p><p>"Good. Because I'm dizzy. You're forcing me to face sides of myself that I didn't think the exist. It terrifies me. I'm losing control and I think I like it. Please don't stop."</p>
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